


Hot For Teacher

by gwentory



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Porn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Lust, Reader-Insert, Smut, Swearing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-29 16:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 62,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwentory/pseuds/gwentory
Summary: You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Due to excessive references to American music, I’ve decided to set this fic in America instead of South Korea. Names will follow the American standard of (First Name) (Last Name), instead of the Korean (Family Name) (Given Name). I’ve also created a playlist that includes any referenced songs, artists, or other music that helps set the vibe, so please check it out! 
> 
> Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/79DnDBjmmuigOvnHBgF8KQ
> 
> Youtube Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ShXwamvksQ&list=PLQXCpt_U76Z4JvoQy6hgLnxBqaXooZr9z

This can’t be happening. This absolutely, _cannot_ be happening to you right now.

You stare at your professor in shock from the safety of the back of the classroom, hoping to all that is holy that he will not look up to find you sitting there. How could _he_ of all people be your professor? How could you possibly be so unlucky?

Your heart races as your mind clouds over with the memory of that night, of the press of his lips and the fervid insistence of his hands as they explored your body. In a night of slightly drunken passion, you had unknowingly slept with the man who was apparently fated to be your professor. You feel like you could cry from embarrassment, and you bury your head in your notebook as he begins roll call.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.” Your friend Shinhye leans over, voice thick with worry.

You nod, not exactly wanting to fill her in on quite possibly the biggest blunder of your life. Maybe you’d share the story of your sexual escapades with her at some point, but sitting in the same room as your partner in crime is _not_ the time or place to do so. “I’m fine. Just having second thoughts about the class.”

“Shinhye Nam?” He calls flatly from the front of the class.

“Here!” She pipes up and then whispers to you, “What? You’ve been looking forward to this class for months!”

“Yeah, but-”

“_____?” The sound of his voice wrapping around the syllables of your name sends a delicious shiver down your spine. You remember that sound, remember _exactly_ the song of your name as it poured from his lungs that night.

“Here,” you respond meekly, lifting your notebook a fraction higher to give you more cover. Does he remember your name? Does he recognize your voice? Does he remember you at all? Surely he hadn’t been drunk enough to completely forget your tryst.

He moves on to the next name without pause, without even sparing a glance your way. Maybe he had forgotten after all. Maybe you’ve been completely wiped from his memory of that night. Or, conversely, maybe he had only forgotten your name, just as you’ve forgotten his. That doesn’t necessarily mean that your night together was insignificant to him.

It should have been insignificant, though. That’s how hookups work. You bite down on your lip and curse yourself for all of the stupid feelings that flood you, curse the way your heart pounds harder just being in the same room as him. It was just one night, and even though it rocked you to your core it was nothing more than a one-and-done rendezvous.

It was maybe a month and a half ago, but your memory of it is much clearer than it should be, especially given the alcohol consumption that colored most of your evening in a rosy haze. Maybe you had worked overtime to engrain every little detail into your memory because you knew you would never want to forget.

Your cousin’s wedding was a gorgeous affair. Lavish floral arrangements adorned the walls and pews, and sanctuary of the church, each bundle of white roses bound together with violet ribbons and lace. Music floated out from grand piano and violin duo, and oh what you would have done to get your hands on that Steinway. Its tone was pure as snow and you bet it played like a dream. And with the reverberating acoustics of the tall church ceiling, its sound was nothing short of angelic.

The priest led the groom in from the side. You had not yet met Hwitaek, but he was handsome and bore a kind, nervous smile. He looked like exactly the kind of guy Jiyoo would fall for, and it made you happy to see the apparent anxious excitement he had for the event.

The music changed and the processional began. The bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way down the aisle two at a time, arm in arm, and you were captivated by the elegant dresses the bridal party wore. The purple of their gowns exactly matched the accents of the flowers in their bouquets, and the bodices were intricately decorated with the finest crystals. The girls absolutely sparkled. But, of course, they could never outshine the bride.

All of the attendants stood as the music changed once more, signaling the entrance of the bride. Jiyoo appeared at the end of the aisle, clinging to her father’s arm as they slowly moved forward. The skirt of her ballgown dress nearly filled the whole aisle, and the sweetheart neckline hid behind a sheer lace boat neck top with cap sleeves. It was so stunningly _her_. And her bouquet was dripping with crystals, her veil and train similarly doused in glitz. But above all, she looked so, so happy.

She joined Hwitaek, passing off her bouquet and taking his hand, and you realized that he had tears in his eyes. Yes, he was definitely the sweetheart for Jiyoo.

The priest opened the ceremony with a prayer, and you obediently bowed your head, although you were admittedly on the fence about your religious beliefs. Still, you sent out some hopeful well-wishes for the soon-to-be newlyweds, because it couldn’t hurt to put some good energy out into the universe.

The ceremony proceeded, and although beautiful, it certainly lacked entertainment value. Not that weddings are meant to be entertaining, per se, but the more religious ceremonies could really drudge on, in your opinion. This one was certainly no exception. There were plenty of scripture readings and hymns, most of which you knew by heart due to spending your childhood in a very similar church. But right as you were starting to feel boredom blur your focus, you noticed him.

He was a groomsman, two down the line from Hwitaek. His tux looked as though it had been made for him, crisp and clean and sitting just right on his broad shoulders. He could have been a model, or a celebrity even, for all you knew. He was certainly far too gorgeous to just be an ordinary person. His dark hair hung soft on his forehead, his eyes were sharp, his lips were plush. How had it taken you so long to notice him?

For the rest of the ceremony you found yourself to be quite preoccupied, as one would imagine. The borderline salacious thoughts that filtered through your mind almost made you feel uncomfortable to be sitting in the house of God, so you did your best to train your eyes on Jiyoo and Hwitaek instead of the unfortunate, unreal beauty of the groomsman.

Finally, after far too long of a ceremony, the couple shared their first kiss as husband and wife, and the whole party recessed down the aisle. You thought you were in the clear, since The World’s Biggest Distraction was finally leaving, but then the damn boy looked squarely at you as he walked by.

You swear your panties _literally_ (not literally) disintegrated.

Back in the classroom, Shinhye kicks your chair, startling you back to the present. “Girl, snap out of it. Why are you so spacey?”

You sit up a little straighter, dropping your notebook onto the desk and blurting, “Yeah, no, it’s fine.”

Your nonsense earns you a weird look, which you make right back at her before glancing to the front of the room, where The Hottest Professor is staring right at you.

Well, you couldn’t have avoided it forever.

His gaze lingers just long enough for you to know that he recognizes you, that he’s having the same mild freakout as you. So he does remember.

Clearing his throat, he breaks eye contact and casually looks around the room as he introduces himself. “Good morning everyone, and welcome to the first day of classes. I am Professor Yang. It is very nice to meet all of you.” He picks up a stack of papers from his desk and starts passing the packets down each row, working his way to the back of the room. “This is a two-part class. For the first seven weeks we will meet here in the classroom and learn the basics of physics as they pertain to musical instruments. The following eight weeks will be spent in the workshop across the hall, where you will each build your own instrument with my guidance.”

You intentionally keep your eyes glued to the blank page of your notebook, and you curse yourself for having chosen the seat at the beginning of the row. He holds the last of his packets out to you, standing close enough that you can smell the sweet cardamom and bergamot of his cologne. Damn, you love that smell.

“You’ll notice my office hours listed here on the syllabus. My office is right down at the end of the hall. Please feel free to stop in if there are ever any questions or concerns about the course material.”

It feels as though his words are directed specifically at you instead of the entirety of the class, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re only imagining it. You begrudgingly peek up at him and he nods encouragingly, still waiting for you to take the papers. When you finally grab the meager stack, he immediately heads back to the front of the class without so much as a smile. But what else should you expect? He’s probably not happy about this situation either.

The syllabus states his office location and hours as well as a phone number, which you assume is for an office phone. He would be insane to give out his personal phone number, especially being as attractive as he is. Students would certainly take advantage of that, yourself not included. You know better. You want absolutely nothing to do with this man if he’s your teacher.

Professor Hongseok Yang. You groan and slump down in your chair.

What have you done?

* * *

The reception was held in the banquet hall of a hotel not too far from the church. It was an elegant setting, with pretty white tables and chairs and more of the same extravagant floral arrangements for centerpieces. The lavender lighting cast a soft glow on the sheer white curtains billowing softly by the open windows, a pleasant summer breeze filling the room with fresh air. The calming color and soothing evening air did nothing to relax your nerves, though, your leg jiggling up and down to release the nervous energy within you.

You anxiously awaited the arrival of the wedding party, sipping at the champagne meant for a toast and convincing yourself that you were getting worked up over nothing. It’s not like anything would happen. You would never in a million years work up the courage necessary to speak to the groomsman. He was way out of your league; you’d just clam up and look like an idiot if you tried to start a conversation. It would definitely be much safer to keep to yourself.

Really, the whole thing was stupid. You were there to support your cousin, not to fawn over some guy. It was absurd for you to be so bothered by your sudden love interest to the point of meticulously planning out the rest of the night in order to avoid being around him. Yet there you were, completely intent on spending the night at your table, having a night of simple conversation and safe, good fun. And eventually you’d get out of your seat to congratulate the happy couple, but that’s it. Your mom would be so proud.

Your cousin had been kind enough to seat you at a table with your other cousins instead of your parents. You wouldn’t have minded sitting with your parents, but if you had the choice you’d much rather be around people your own age. Your parents could be a little uptight (well, more than a little, especially when going to family events), and even if you were going to have a low-key night, you’d have a much better time gossiping with your cousins instead of constantly having to reassure your mother that she looks just as beautiful as your aunts without looking overdone.

All you wanted was a relaxed, stress free night. But when had things ever gone the way you planned?

You had tried not to stare at him. You really had. But some things just can’t be helped. The wedding party made their entrance, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He glowed when he smiled, burning brighter than the sun, but you were unable to look away and save yourself, completely trapped in the warmth of his light.

You realized that at least a fraction of your attraction to him was likely due to the personality you were projecting onto him - he seemed clever, funny, stubborn - but he might not have been any of those things. Maybe he was bookish, or a sports fanatic. Maybe he loved puppies and children, or cigarettes and motorcycles. You only had one way to find out for sure, but you would certainly not be learning those things about him tonight or any other night.

When the meal was finished and the dancing had begun, you just couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. He and the other groomsmen partied hard, tearing up the dance floor and taking full advantage of the open bar. The particular man that had caught your eye left his jacket at the table, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veiny forearms - dangerous, as you were far too easily affected by impressive vasculature. He had to be covered in muscles, you just knew it.

Minseo, who had been sitting next to you all night, returned from the bar with a round of beverages for the both of you. “Bless Jiyoo for asking a friend to bartend. He’s not carding and honestly he’s super cute.”

“What I’m hearing is that we need to down these drinks as fast as possible so you can get back up there and talk to him again.” You gratefully accepted the wine glass, immediately pulling it to your lips and taking a deep sip of the dry, fruity beverage.

“Not a bad idea. And next time I’ll get a more complicated drink.” She smiled mischievously, taking a long sip of her own wine, which was already half finished. “What about you? When are you gonna go out there and dance? He’ll never notice you sitting over here.”

Wine dribbled down your chin when you pulled away from your glass too soon, and you sloppily wiped it off with the back of your hand before it could drip onto your dress. “What? Who? What are you talking about?” You blubbered, face growing warm, realizing that she had caught you. Your staring must have been too obvious.

“Come on. The groomsman. You can’t keep your eyes off of him. I’m telling you to go make a move.” She plopped into her seat. “Seriously. Go get it.”

Vehemently shaking your head, you refuse to take her up on any of her ludicrous suggestions. “Are you kidding me? I can’t just walk up to him and… and…”

“No, you’re right, you’re right. We’ll go together.” Minseo downed the rest of her drink and waited for you to do the same.

You continued your head-shaking routine, adding a finger wag for emphasis. “No way. I’m staying right here where it’s safe. The DJ isn’t that great anyway. Do you hear this music? I can’t dance to this.”

Just as soon as you mentioned it, the music cut out, drawing your attention to the DJ’s stand. Shinhye twisted in her seat to look over. “What’s he doing? The song isn’t even over.”

“See? I told you-”

“Alright, single ladies!” The DJ shouted way too loudly into the microphone. “Let’s get all of you out here and toss that bouquet!”

Minseo’s head whipped around like something out of a horror movie. Before she could say a single word, you took to shaking your head once more. “No, no, no. I am not going up there.”

You knew she wouldn’t listen to your futile attempts at refusal. Minseo stood, forcefully grabbing your wrists and yanking you out of your chair. “Come on, it’s for Jiyoo. Just stand there and look involved.”

Begrudgingly, you let her drag you to the center of the room, where you joined at least fifteen other bachelorettes. You tucked yourself amongst them, wishing you could just be invisible. Jiyoo smiled brightly at her flock of targets before turning her back, and when the DJ counted down from three, she flung her beautiful bouquet into the air.

And wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing flew right for you.

It arced high in the air, but it didn’t take a genius to see where it was going to land. You lifted your hands and it fell right into your grasp; you didn’t even have to reach for it. The room was all cheers and applause as you very suddenly became the center of attention, Jiyoo closing in to congratulate you.

“Ahhh, my baby cousin!” She squealed as she wrapped her arms around you in a big hug, her poofy dress swallowing your legs. “You know that means you’re next, right?”

“Next to get married?” You question with a quiet laugh. “That seems unlikely. I don’t know if you’ve noticed how very much _single_ I am.”

“But the flowers have commanded that you’ll fall in love.” Jiyoo winked playfully, and you couldn’t help but smile, even if you didn’t believe in such superstitions.

The wedding photographer snapped a few photos of the two of you, and for a moment you forgot all about the beautiful distraction that was currently seated at the head table. You squeezed your cousin tightly, congratulating her on this big step into womanhood. “I’m so happy for you, Jiyoo! Your new husband is super cute, too.”

“He is, isn’t he.” She smiled wide and then gasped. “You haven’t met him yet, have you?”

“Not yet, actually.”

Nodding her head towards the front of the room, she took your hand sweetly. “That needs to change. You’ll love him.”

“I’m sure I will.” You laughed and eagerly followed her to their table before you could realize who else waited there. And by the time you saw the groomsman seated there, it was already too late.

“Hwitaek!” Jiyoo called as you both approached. “Come here, sweetie.”

Hwitaek, who was mid-conversation with the cause of your demise, patted said instigator on the back and looped around the table to come meet you. You fixated on him to keep your eyes from straying over to the man with the perfect face, and it seemed to work out okay.

“Hwitaek, this is my cousin, _____.” Jiyoo introduced you. “She caught the bouquet!”

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Hwitaek enthusiastically drew you into a hug, and you wondered if the extremely friendly gesture was at all fueled by alcohol. Maybe he was just a friendly guy. “Congratulations on the bouquet catch!”

“Thank you,” you laughed as he released you. “And congratulations to you on the marriage! That’s certainly a bigger deal than the flowers.”

He smiled sweetly, tucking Jiyoo under his arm. “Thank you. I’m a very lucky man. She’s my best friend.”

Jiyoo beamed, and your heart warmed. They were absolutely precious together, the love between them practically tangible. Maybe one day you could find a love like that.

Just then, the DJ came in with some shitty, generic pop song, and Jiyoo perked up. “Oh my gosh, I love this song! Let’s dance!” She started to pull both you and Hwitaek back towards the dance floor, but you returned to your default mode.

“I’m actually really thirsty, so I’m going to get some more to drink. But you two have fun!” It was much easier to slip out of Jiyoo’s grip than it was when Minseo held your wrist, and Jiyoo and Hwitaek carried on just fine without you.

And then you made the mistake of turning directly towards the hot groomsman.

You met his eyes and froze. Everything stopped. Your tongue dried up, nothing more than a hardened sponge in your mouth, and your pulse slowed to a halt. You were dead. Absolutely, unequivocally dead. Taken by the unmatched lethal power of a perfectly executed seductive gaze.

Jesus Christ, you were drowning in lust.

He raised an eyebrow at you, looking amused by the goldfish expression you bore. “Hi.”

Oh, dear Lord, even his voice was beautiful. You needed to get out of there _fast._ With a nod and awkward sort of salute, you took off, finding solace in the safety of your table. You plopped into your chair and practically inhaled the rest of your wine, dropping the bouquet onto the table and wondering how much longer you would have to suffer through this reception.

It would have been nice to have some relief. To get a moment to compose yourself and let your heart rate return to normal. But Minseo, the everloving bane of your existence, could not let that happen.

You spotted her on the dancefloor. She looked over her shoulder back at you, a devilish expression on her face, and you realized that she was definitely up to no good.

Minseo had always been a troublemaker and bad influence over you. She was your closest cousin for sure, and had been a good friend of yours all your life. You loved her to death, but Jesus Christ she really knew how to push your buttons.

Born without a single shy bone in her body, she practically shimmied right up to the groomsmen, targeting the one with the sharp eyes and plush lips and dark, soft hair. The one with his sleeves rolled up, the one that you’re convinced is the most attractive man to ever exist. She zeroed in on him, leaning in far too close as she spoke into his ear. And then she pulled back only to point at you, and suddenly his eyes were locked on yours once more.

And this time, he smiled. Oh Lord in Heaven, he smiled. At you. And your heart went up in flames. Total destruction. There were no survivors.

You ripped your eyes from his, suddenly sweating profusely and somehow out of breath. Your trembling hands lifted the remainder of Minseo’s wine to your mouth and you sucked it all down, realizing that you were far too sober to make it through the night alive. And much to your terror, you set the empty glass onto the table and looked up to see him headed straight for you.

Panicked, you rose to your feet and took off in the opposite direction, hurtling yourself towards the bathroom so you could hide.

Once you burst through the door, you flicked cold water onto the back of your neck, wishing you could douse your whole face in it without messing up your makeup. Instead you just took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself because you were clearly overreacting in every sense of the word.

Why were you so terrified? He was just a guy, albeit a drop dead gorgeous one. That kind of beauty was frankly quite intimidating, though, and you just knew you’d look like an idiot if you had to say a single word to him.

You considered a plethora of escape routes, including begging your parents to drive you home early and climbing out of the small frosted-glass window right there in the corner of the bathroom. But were you really that much of a chicken? Were you really going to let one attractive guy scare you off?

Then you remembered the way he smiled, remembered the way you trembled at the sight of him. He intrigued you, piqued your interest. You were curious what he might be like as a person, a kisser, a lover. You nursed your lower lip between teeth, absolutely giddy at the thought of getting him alone. Sex with him would be incredible, no doubt about it.

Since when were you so shameless, imagining all sorts of lewd scenarios centering around a complete stranger, though gorgeous he may be? You didn’t do hookups. You didn’t do one night stands. Sleeping around was not your thing. But with him… you felt inclined to completely abandon your sense of morality. He sparked something within you that you hadn’t felt, well, probably ever.

That was likely why you were terrified enough to run and hide the second he turned his attention your way - because you had the vague feeling that you would let him do anything he wanted to you, and it’s both thrilling and frightening to know someone could have that kind of power. _Especially_ when you don’t even know the man. Sure, you have a history of being unable to function properly around attractive males in your usual sober circumstances. But this was definitely more than just a fear of looking a fool. It was you avoiding the dangerous call of forbidden pleasures and the path to losing your morality. But most of all, it was the distress over the unsettling feeling that you might actually be okay with stepping out of your comfort zone if it meant you could experience him.

You just weren’t sure how to deal with any of that.

* * *

As class wraps up, you pack up your things and wonder if you should say something to him. Should you acknowledge what happened between you? Or would it be best to just ignore it, pretend like it never happened? Maybe you should just let him take the lead on this one.

Before you can really decide one way or the other, Shinhye starts making a scene. “You know, ______, maybe you’re right to be second guessing this class. I’m not sure an eight AM is good for you. Did you pay attention at all?”

“It’s not a big deal, Shinhye, honest.” You speak quietly but harshly, your words carrying more bite than you intend. You glance up at Professor Yang, who is also gathering his things. If he’s eavesdropping on the conversation, he certainly gives no sign of it.

“Really? I’ve never seen you so distracted. Maybe bring a coffee next week. He said he’ll allow drinks in the classroom.”

You sling your backpack over your shoulder, muttering under your breath. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Alright, now she’s awake!” Shinhye grabs her bag and leads the way.

As you follow her to the door, you peek over at Professor Yang again. He’s busying himself with unplugging his laptop from the projector, and he doesn’t even spare a glance your way as you exit the room. You hate the way your chest tightens, almost as if you’re disappointed.

You catch up to Shinhye and follow her to the dining hall to grab some brunch. Class was scheduled until noon but he dismissed early, stating that the four hour classes were only really necessary during the workshop half of the semester and you’ll likely be free to go around eleven until then.

You don’t exactly feel hungry, though, your stomach too full of nerves to desire any food. So you sit at the table with only a coffee, per Shinhye’s recommendation. You probably do need it, honestly.

“How old do you think Professor Yang is? He looks awfully young to be teaching at a university.” Shinhye tears into her omelette.

Well, he’s friends with Hwitaek, who you believe to be in his mid-twenties, so maybe he’s around there too? But you can’t bring any of that up without divulging exactly what had occurred between the two of you. “He does look pretty young.”

“He said he studied and worked as a luthier for the last ten years… I feel like he has to be in his late twenties at least, but he certainly doesn’t look it. Or maybe he just started his apprenticeship pretty young. I wonder if there’s an age requirement for that sort of thing?”

“A luthier?” You question, not familiar with the term.

Shinhye cocks her head. “Yeah, ______. A luthier. Professor Yang talked all about it. You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I guess not.” You chew your bottom lip. Your head really was somewhere else all morning.

Thankfully Shinhye fills you in without dragging you too much. “A luthier is someone who makes string instruments. Professor Yang explained all about how he did this luthier apprenticeship and how he specializes in making guitars when he’s not teaching.”

“That’s actually really cool,” you murmur. You imagine what he must look like playing guitar, or working with tools in the workshop, and you can’t help but feel impressed just picturing about it. A thought occurs to you, and you accidentally verbalize, “Oh that makes so much sense!”

“What does?”

You clamp your mouth shut. You can’t tell Shinhye that you understand now why his hands felt so rough when they slid under your dress, how you know exactly where each callous resides on his fingers. Somehow you manage to rescue yourself with, “It makes sense that he’s teaching something like this, you know, because obviously someone who has so much experience should be the one to teach the class. It’s just obvious. So like, it makes sense.”

Shinhye shakes her head slowly. “I just don’t get you.”

Maybe you’ll tell her one day. But it just seems unnecessary, especially because it’s bad news that you’ve ever been involved with a professor. The fewer people that know, the better.

* * *

After camping out in the restroom of the hotel for an appropriate amount of time, you finally gathered your wits about you and headed out into the wild once more. You had reasoned with yourself, finally coming to the conclusion that you were a grown(ish) woman who did _not_ need to hide from boys. Instead, you would handle yourself like a true grown(ish) woman and boost your morale with a little (albeit illegal) liquid courage.

You headed straight for the bar, posting up there and chugging a glass of wine before immediately ordering another. Ah, to be a lady.

As you accepted your second glass, a voice next to you asked for a bourbon. You were thankful you did not have any wine in your mouth as you looked up to find none other than the most beautiful man in the world standing next to you - you definitely would have spit it out all over him. He smiled warmly at you, and if it didn’t feel like your knees were about to give out, you definitely would have sprinted back to the restroom, grown(ish) woman morale be damned.

He must have sensed your self-consciousness because he said with a laugh, “Please don’t run away from me again. I promise I don’t bite.”

You immediately squashed the thought of _oh I wish you would_ , refusing to let that little gem slip past your lips. Instead you just took a long drink, completely unsure of what to say.

He wasn’t dissuaded by your silence, though, and you weren’t positive if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Leaning against the counter, he turned his body to face you, calm confidence pouring out from him in waves. “Your cousin said you wanted to dance with me, but that you might need some convincing. I’m not so persistent that I won’t take no for an answer, so if you say no I’ll leave you alone. But I thought I should at least try for a yes.”

The way his lips formed his words absolutely hypnotized you. How could a person be so stunning?

“I thought if nothing else, I might be able to at least have a conversation with you. I didn’t expect it to be quite so challenging, though. Usually it’s easy to get girls to talk to me.”

You snapped out of your dazed state with a laugh, your jaw dropping at his bold assertion. “That’s incredibly cocky of you to say, don’t you think?”

He shrugged casually. “It got you to talk, didn’t it?”

You took another sip, eyebrow raised. Touché.

“So what’s it going to take to get you to dance with me?” He smiled that beautiful, breathtaking smile of his, and it intoxicated you. Or maybe it was just the wine finally kicking in. Either way, you were hopeless. Looking away from you briefly, he accepted the short glass of amber liquid the bartender handed him, and you admired the strong line of his jaw and neck as he nodded his thanks.

Holding tightly onto your glass, you ripped your gaze from him before he could turn back to you and mulled over his inquiry. If you drank any more wine, it would probably be fairly easy for him to get you to dance, but you knew better than to spill those beans. So you respond to his question with a much safer answer: “Maybe a different DJ.”

He laughed warmly, and the sound of it turned your world upside down. “Yeah, he’s not great. Any wedding DJ that’s got ‘Y.M.C.A.’ on their playlist should _not_ be a wedding DJ.”

You lifted your glass in agreement, intrigued. “I’ll drink to that. If you’re going to play something from the seventies, at least make it good. Give me some Marvin Gaye, or Donna Summer. Maybe a little Rufus with Chaka Khan for extra brownie points.”

His eyes tracked over your face as he clinked his glass against yours. “Some Earth, Wind and Fire, perhaps?”

Sucking air through your teeth, you squinted disapprovingly. “They can get a little campy.”

“Excuse you, ‘Boogie Wonderland’ is a classic.”

“About as classic as ‘Y.M.C.A.’” You snarked back at him, surprised by how at ease you were beginning to feel. The wine had _definitely_ kicked in. Your brain felt warm and fuzzy, your limbs pleasantly tingly. “You know what’s cool?”

“Hm?” The glass in his hand met his lips and somewhere in the back of your mind you registered a touch of jealousy. Over a damn glass. What the literal shit.

You shook your head as quickly and minutely as possible to clear your thoughts and get back on track with what you wanted to say. “Um… Ah, wedding bands. Why don’t people hire bands anymore? Get some live music going. That’s awesome. That’s what’s good.”

“You’re really passionate about music, aren’t you?” Soft endearment coated his voice like honey, his sweet eyes scanning your face and making your heart flutter.

You nodded, shyness creeping up on you once again. He was miles out of your league, and it was honestly unreal that he’d even give you the time of day. Yet there he was, talking to you like you actually had a chance. Well… maybe you actually did.

An effortlessly sexy grin tugged at his lips. “So I know there’s not a wedding band tonight, and we’ve already established that this DJ kind of sucks… but is there any chance I could get you to dance with me despite all of that?”

And there it was - your chance. He could have very easily dropped the idea of dancing altogether after chatting with you and forming a more educated opinion of you. But the conversation must have gone okay because he still wanted to dance. And there he was, smiling all pretty and waiting for a response and you knew that you didn’t exactly have a choice when he looked at you that way.

“Let me finish this first.” Your voice sounded a lot more steady and confident than you expected, which left you pleasantly surprised with yourself.

“That’s fair.” He nodded and took a sip of his drink, finally looking away and giving you a chance to breathe. Changing the subject, he asked, “You here for the bride or groom? My guess is bride, since I haven’t seen you before.”

“Bride. She’s my cousin. And I’m guessing you’re with the groom, for obvious reasons.” You gestured to his tux, the symbol of his relationship to the groom.

“Perceptive,” he teased. “Yeah, he’s a long time friend of mine.”

With a big gulp of wine, you nodded. Almost done. You were really doing this. “They seem like a good pair. I hadn’t met Hwitaek until today - maybe thirty minutes ago, actually. But he seems like a good guy and she’s definitely happy.”

“Ah, right, I think I saw you meeting him.”

You froze up, remembering the awkward staring contest that followed your introduction to Hwitaek. With an uncomfortable chuckle, you spit out, “Right, I think you did.”

Now there was something more mischievous in his grin, and you knew he brought that up on purpose to see how you’d react. Pleased, he took another drink, and you were bewitched by the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I see them together a lot, and they’re a perfect match. Hwitaek is very good to Jiyoo, don’t worry. And she’s great, she fits right in with the whole lot of us.”

“That’s good to hear.” You were relieved that he didn’t linger on the subject - your life wasn’t over yet. So you smiled, finally on your last sip. You throw it back, and the warm buzz at the corners of your mind gave you the confidence you needed to place your empty glass on the bar counter and face him. “What’s your name?”

“Hongseok. Yours?” He smirked, effectively chipping away at your newfound courage, and finished off his own drink.

“_____.”

“_____,” he repeated your name, testing it out on his tongue, and it sounded absolutely wonderful. You needed to hear it once more, and you made it your personal goal to make him say it again before the end of the night. He held out his arm for you to take, stirring up the tipsy butterflies in your stomach. “Shall we?”

With a shaky inhale, you hooked your hand in the crook of his elbow, noting the way his bicep bulged. You were signing your life away for the night and you had absolutely no idea what you were getting yourself into.

* * *

Hongseok.

Professor Hongseok Yang.

You throw yourself back onto your bed, tossing your Physics of Musical Instruments syllabus to the floor. It’s been two days and you still haven’t come to terms with the pickle you’re in. The secret is eating you alive from the inside out, and you’re dying to talk about it.

Briefly, you even consider emailing Hong- no, Professor Yang, but you know you can’t just send incriminating emails over the school’s server. That would be about as bad of an idea as _sleeping with your professor in the first place._

You’re trying not to chastise yourself too much about it. At the time, you had no idea he taught at your university. If you had, you _definitely_ would have refused to visit his hotel room. You wouldn’t have even danced with him. You know how to behave responsibly, but you let yourself live a bit more freely that night and now you’re paying the price.

Maybe you needed to tell Shinhye after all. You just needed someone to know what you were dealing with, because it felt too burdensome for you to hold on your own. If just one person could know and understand-

 _Minseo_.

Jumping to your feet, you scramble out to the living room and tear up your desk in search of your cell phone. When you finally found the device, you immediately video call your beloved cousin.

She answers after a few rings. “What’s up, boo?”

You almost start crying, already feeling relieved just by having her on the line. “Minseoooo! Are you alone right now?”

“Yeah, I’m at my apartment. You okay?” She frowns, peering closely at her screen.

You push your hair back with a sigh. How do you say this? “I’ve made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.”

“What is it?”

“Remember the groomsman from Jiyoo’s wedding?”

As soon as you mention him, her eyes grow wide. She covers her mouth, but not enough to muffle her words. “Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“What? No!” You shake your head emphatically. “No, I swear I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh thank God, because that would be just the worst.”

She’s right, though; that _would_ be the worst. Your current situation might be bad, but at least there’s no fetus involved. With that bit of perspective, you proceed a bit more calmly. “So… it turns out that the groomsman teaches at my university. And I’m taking his class.”

Minseo stares at her phone for a moment, and then suddenly bursts into laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me. For real?”

“For real.”

More laughter. “What are the odds of that? Jesus. You finally get laid for the first time since high school and it’s with your fucking _teacher_ …”

Her lighthearted response actually makes you feel better, and you let yourself laugh about it too. “It’s crazy, right?”

“Insane!” Her black cat poked her head into the frame, and Minseo scratched her between her ears. “So wait, what happened? How did class go? Has he said anything about it?”

“He didn’t say a word, and neither did I. He basically ignored me all through class. And I think it’s a good thing? But also I kind of want to just talk about it? Because I feel like it’s going to be incredibly awkward if we have to go through the whole semester without even addressing it.”

“You should say something to him, then. Just tell him that you’re not going to say anything about what happened, and tell him that you want him to treat you normally. I mean, that’s what you want, right?”

You nod. “Right. I should probably do that, as uncomfortable as it may be.”

Minseo tilts her head, looking at you endearingly. “You can handle it. You’re a strong little lady. You just have to believe it.”

Finally, a relieved exhale leaves you. “Minseo, I feel so much better now that you know. I haven’t told anyone here about what happened and it was killing me.”

“I’m glad I could help. You should probably keep it a secret at school, though. Word can really spread fast across a campus.” Her cat meows quietly in agreement.

“Good plan. This stays between you and me.” You hold up your little finger as if to make a pinky promise, and she follows suit.

“Our little secret.”

* * *

The first days of the rest of your classes all pale in comparison to that eventful Tuesday morning. Physics of Musical Instruments is your only class in the science building, so thankfully you don’t have to worry about accidentally passing him every other day of the week. That should also be your most difficult class this semester, with a required writing class and second levels of aural skills and music theory making up the rest of your schedule. Add in your weekly piano lessons and R&B Ensemble practices, and you’ve got a lot on your hands. But you’re generally looking forward to your sophomore year, regardless of the whole mess with Professor Yang.

And it really doesn’t need to be a mess, anyway. You’ll have your chat with him, you can both move on, and it’ll all be moot in the end. At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you head into the weekend, knowing full well you’ll have to face him again in a matter of days and it won’t be easy.

Saturday afternoon is the music department’s convocation for the start of the semester. You take a seat in the auditorium of the music building, the ensemble on stage providing the entertainment as students file in. It’s the pride of the otherwise average music department, the upperclassman Jazz Ensemble, which you hope you’ll be accepted into next school year. If you do well with your own ensemble this year, you could definitely stand a chance. Besides, the current keyboardist will be graduating at the end of the school year, so there will definitely be an open spot waiting for you.

A familiar looking boy approaches you, all cheekbones and bright eyes. “Hi, can I sit there?” He gestures to the seat next to you, and you nod, standing to let him squeeze past you. When you’re both seated, he says, “I think I saw you in theory and aural skills, right?”

That’s why he looks so familiar! “Oh, yes! I remember you. Hi.” You greet him warmly, glad to have a fellow classmate to keep you company.

“I’m Kino.” He extends his hand to you. “Sophomore, studying voice and dance.”

“______, piano.” You shake his hand, and he smiles sweetly. “Also a sophomore.”

“Nice to meet you, officially.” Kino drops his backpack onto the floor between his legs and looks up at the stage. “Wow, Jazz Ensemble never disappoints.”

“You’ve got that right. You should have heard the Thelonious Monk tune they played before this one. They killed it.”

“I can believe that.” He looks over at you. Does he ever stop smiling? “Are you in any ensembles this semester?”

“Yeah, R&B.”

“No way! Me, too!” He laughs, and the sound of it is warm and pure. “I hardly convinced them to let me join, though. Being a double major keeps me really busy, but I was desperate to get into an ensemble this year.”

You laugh too, enjoying the way he makes you feel at ease. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then.”

“Sounds like it.”

The auditorium doors close as the last of the students scramble into seats, and you clap as the ensemble finishes their last song, a Miles Davis classic. One day it’ll be you on that stage. One day you’ll get to really make your mark.

The meeting itself isn’t really anything special. It’s mostly just to welcome everyone to a new school year and explain the basic requirements of a music major. Each semester you must attend no less than five student performances, but that’s nothing intimidating to you. You love going to student performances, so you’ll likely have all five knocked out before you reach the second half of the semester.

Toward the end of the meeting, the head of the department announces that he would like to introduce the new staff for the year. Three new professors file out from the wing, and you bite down on your lip to prevent your jaw from dropping, shocked to see Professor Yang among them. Why is he here? He’s in the science department, not music.

He is the first to step up to the microphone to introduce his class, and your heart just about jumps out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hello everyone, I’m Professor Yang. Although I’m not technically a part of the music department, I have a feeling you may all find an interest in my course, Physics of Musical Instruments. It will help fulfill half of your required science credits while still allowing you to explore music. In my course you will not only learn the science of scales, tonality, and sound waves, but you will also be given the opportunity to build your own instrument. I’m very grateful to be able to share my knowledge of instruments and sound with you. My class for this semester filled up very quickly, so please keep an eye out for it when you’re preparing your schedules for next semester. Thank you, and I look forward to seeing you in class.”

He is so professional, and you’re taken aback by how different he is in a professional setting. At the wedding he was so carefree, although he certainly carried the same amount of confidence. Regardless, your pulse is getting out of control the longer you watch him, and you’re so thankful for the cloak of darkness in the auditorium.

Kino leans over toward you, whispering lowly, “That class sounds awesome!”

You just nod, fixated on Professor Yang. He’s dressed a bit more casually today, wearing a pair of snug fitting jeans with his partially unbuttoned button-down, a v-neck shirt peeking out from the space where the button-down separates at his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up, just like they were at the wedding. It would feel so good to rip off those clothes, to hear the buttons of his shirt break off and fall to the floor as you strip him. The thought sends searing heat through you, and you nonchalantly cross your legs. Yes, this semester is definitely going to be a tough one for you.

Kino takes off as soon as the assembly ends, blurting that he has to get to his dance department’s convocation. And as you eventually make your way out of the auditorium, you’re thankful that you’re on your own.

Professor Yang is in the lobby, chatting with another faculty member as students filter past. And for absolutely no reason at all, he happens to look in your direction just as you notice him. He looks at you long and hard with a completely unreadable expression, and you gaze back, trying to keep your face similarly neutral. Trying not to let him see how badly affected you are just to be in the same room as him. Trying to pretend that you don’t wish you could get him naked again, feel his body on yours again.

You may never know if you are successful in controlling your features. You pull your eyes from him long before you can pick up on any clues and bolt for the door, simultaneously relieved and saddened to know he will not follow you.

* * *

Hongseok led you to the dance floor and pulled you around to face him. The DJ was still doing a terrible job, but with his hand on your waist and alcohol buzzing through your veins, you managed to find it within you to dance. You swayed your hips, bopping to the beat, your hands eventually coming to rest on his broad shoulders.

His hands grew more and more adventurous in their placement with each song that passed. You didn’t mind one bit, enjoying the way he casually explored your back, thighs, and neck. Your own hands slid down over his muscled chest and abdomen, which you could clearly feel even through his layers of clothing. If only you could touch his skin…

You were completely taken by him, heart pounding pleasantly in your chest as warmth spread throughout your body. Why had you been so afraid before? Everything had turned out to be nothing short of wonderful. Even if it stopped at dancing and went no further (which was exactly what you expected to happen), you still could leave knowing you had a great time with an incredibly hot guy that you could fantasize about later to your heart’s content.

You still couldn’t believe that he would even give you the time of day, yet there he was, dancing far too close for your feeble heart to handle - not that you were complaining. His features were even more striking up close; you could easily memorize the straight line of his nose, the exact shape of his lips, the curve of his chin. You didn’t know what you had done in a previous life to deserve his attention, but you were endlessly thankful.

As elated as you were to be there with him, though, you couldn’t help but wonder how he really felt, what exactly he thought about you. After all, it’s not like he had just walked up to you of his own accord. Surely it was all your cousin’s doing and no true luck of your own. “Hongseok?”

“_____?”

You nearly shiver at the sound of your name. “Are you only dancing with me because my cousin asked you to?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to decipher the true meaning behind your questioning. “Yes and no.”

“Okay?”

The DJ played a slower song next, and Hongseok took the opportunity to pull you up against him, wrapping his arm around your waist and taking your hand in his. His fingers were rough and calloused, but gentle as they wrapped around your hand. “You didn’t really seem too eager to talk to me after you met Hwitaek, so I wasn’t going to bother you.”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry from nerves. You had almost ruined this for yourself, and you had no idea.

He continued his explanation. “So technically yes, it was your cousin’s idea that convinced me to say something to you. But if I hadn’t wanted to dance with you, I would have told her no. I wouldn’t have even asked you if I wasn’t interested.”

Thoughts manifested into words before you could stop them, and you cursed your intoxicated tongue. “Interested… in me? Like, you think I’m cute, or something?”

“You could say that.” His laugh brought a smile to your face. “What about you? Do you think I’m cute, or something?”

You should have cut yourself off after the second glass of wine. You didn’t drink often, and you didn’t have much of a tolerance, as made evident by the shameless, bold compliment that spilled from your lips. “Cute? You’re _beautiful_ and I am very attracted to you.”

You only caught a hint of his charming smile before he pulled you in even tighter and lowered his mouth until it brushed the cusp of your ear. Gravelly undertones lined the edges of his voice as he murmured, “I don’t want to cause a scene - this is a family affair, after all - so I’m going to have to let you do your own thing for the rest of the night. But I want you to know that I am incredibly attracted to you, and I need you to find your way upstairs to room 417 after we send off the happy couple. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded without hesitation, speechless at his incredibly forward instructions, your alcohol-dulled mind still able to piece together the implications of his invitation. Damn all of your fears and concerns; Hongseok was a dream and you’d never forgive yourself if you passed on the chance that had been afforded you. Come hell or high water, you would get to room 417. How could you say no? Surely your sober self would thank your tipsy self for it later.

“Great.” His low, sensual voice filled you, his breath tickling your ear as he straightened up and released you. With a wink, he disappeared into the throng of partygoers, and you nibbled at your bottom lip as you wobbled towards your table. You needed to collapse into your chair, unable to hold yourself up after the assault of his charms.

Before you could reach the table, though, you spotted Minseo, and steered yourself in her direction instead. You grabbed onto her arm, ripping her from the rest of your cousins.

“Please don’t kill me, I swear I was only trying to do you a favor.” She misinterpreted your excitement as aggression, flinching when you leaned in.

“No, I love you, you’re the best, I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I think I’m gonna get laid tonight.” You giggled to yourself, feeling warm and airy. “He told me to go up to his room later.”

“There you go, girl!” She whacked your arm playfully, looking you up and down. “Go get it and then give me all the details tomorrow because honestly he’s gorgeous and I just have to know what’s going on under those clothes.”

“Ohmygod me tooooo…” you drawled. You were losing your mind just thinking about it. “Oh, um, hey, can you cover for me? I’m gonna tell my parents I’m spending the night at your place.”

She nodded, and then her face lit up. “Better idea! Let’s get our own room upstairs. Then you can come to our room after.”

You blinked owlishly. “Right.”

Minseo caught onto your hesitation. “Unless you plan on actually staying the night?”

“...No? Because… sleeping over… would that be weird?”

“Probably. I’m guessing he’ll just want to hook up and be done with it. So we should go see if there are any rooms available. Yeah?”

Minseo had a good point; it could get weird if you tried to overstay your welcome, so having another room to retreat to would be the best course of action. You came to the wedding with your parents, so you wouldn’t be able to get yourself home if you stayed at the hotel longer than everyone else. And you wouldn’t expect Minseo to leave her apartment and drive all the way back to pick you up after... You nodded and squeezed her hand. “Okay, that’s a good plan. Did I tell you you’re the best?”

“You might have mentioned it.” She started leading you by the hand towards the lobby. “Let’s go get that room and then head back to the bar before you chicken out.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You start to settle in to the new semester, but you're quick to realize that dealing with the stubborn Professor Yang is going to be a lot more difficult than you originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, my little peaches! Thank you for all of your kind words regarding this series, and thank you for your patience as I worked to put this together. Lots of life changes happened in the last few months, including moving to another state and adopting a pup (who is yet to be housebroken). I’ve been very busy, but I’m thrilled to finally update!
> 
> Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5IHApueOvgty201JHbWd4R
> 
> YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cy6Arnjp-hQ&list=PLQXCpt_U76Z5r7ED4Bd2hXnHwBfJsH8Bt

On Monday night, you get to R&B Ensemble rehearsal ten minutes early to make sure you have time to warm up a bit on your own. A handful of students are already in the room, and you spot Kino chatting with a girl, whom you assume to be another vocalist. He waves as you walk by, and you wave back. Boy, he’s got cheekbones for days.

Tucked back by the keyboard is the bassist with his long limbs and brooding aura, a face that is somewhat familiar to you - you can’t quite place it, though. He has a sharp jawline and mussed up hair, a leather jacket thrown over the back of his chair. He fiddles with his amp before plucking out a funky bass groove, completely in his own world. **  
**

You walk in his direction, heading for the keyboard and shooting out a simple greeting as you take your seat. “Hey.”

He glances up, nodding once in response before returning his attention to his instrument. He must not be much of a talker, which is fine by you. You flip on the keyboard and begin cycling through scales and modes to get your fingers warm, sure to keep the volume low so as not to disturb your new bandmates. As you move onto some arpeggiated jazz chords, you notice a tall, loud presence burst in through the door.

“Ayyyyy!” Wooseok Jung calls out, startling the poor girl that had entered right in front of him. He drops his headphones so they hang around his neck, and he chucks his drumsticks right past you, where one hits the sound-proofed wall and the other bounces off the bassist’s chest with a dull thud.

“Damn it, Wooseok, you piece of shit.” The bassist hurls the stick right back at him, and Wooseok catches it effortlessly.

“My man, Yuto. I didn’t know you were in on this.” Wooseok traipses over to your corner of the room, goofy grin on his face. He holds a fist out for you to pound. “Hey girl, what’s up.”

“Hey, good to see you.” You bump fists. You had a class with Wooseok last year - first level aural skills - and although you wouldn’t exactly call him a friend, it seems you both remember each other.

“Have a good summer?” He asks you as he takes a seat at the drum kit, sticks spinning between his fingers. You may never know how he fits all of that leg behind the drums.

You nod. “I worked all summer at the record store in my hometown, and that was a blast. Did a couple gigs at some open mics, too. You?”

“Ah, nice!” Wooseok clicks the sticks against the rim of the snare drum. Come to think of it, you haven’t realized until today that he’s a drummer. It makes sense, though, considering the fact that he was always tapping rhythms on the desk in your previous class. “I was up here taking summer classes. I tell you what, music theory is not my friend. I can’t read clefs for shit. Give me the most intricate rhythms you can find and I can handle that, no problem. But give me a set of pitches and a marimba and I’m lost. I don’t know how you do it.”

You laugh with a short shrug, dramatically tossing your hair over your shoulder. “Just my natural talent, I guess.”

A grin splits across Wooseok’s face, cute and genuine. “Well aren’t you a lucky little duck.” The warmth of his smile makes you blush, and you have to look away from him.

He’s right, though; you definitely got lucky with your musical skills. Your parents started you in piano lessons at a young age, so you started reading music right around the same time you started reading words. It’s second nature to you now.

A thought occurs to you, and you meet his eyes again. “You know, I could help you with theory if you want.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Dude, you would be a lifesaver. That would be awesome.” Wooseok breathes a sigh of relief. “And in exchange, I can… teach you about drumming or something, I don’t know. I’ll owe you. Whatever you want.”

Sounds fair to you. You give him a sharp nod. “Deal.”

“Deal,” he agrees, shooting you another brief smile before turning to Yuto. “Yo, Yuto. Throw down a line. Let’s jam.”

“Throw down a line?” Yuto immediately questions Wooseok’s choice of words, eyeing the drummer critically.

“Yeah, a bass line. Hit me with it.”

“Who talks like that?” Yuto mumbles the question rhetorically and starts plucking out a groove. Once his rhythm and tempo is established, Wooseok comes in with a simple drumbeat to keep it moving.

You don’t know much about bass, but you know the pitch of the strings and you understand that each fret marks a half step (thank you, music theory). It takes you a minute, but you’re able to determine that he’s in the key of D. You start plunking out some chords until you fall into the pocket of the groove, finally finding the correct chord progression.

“What key?” A girl on the other side of the room asks, slipping the strap of her electric guitar over her shoulder.

You start calling out chord names as you work through the progression until it seems she’s got the hang of it, and then you improvise, letting your fingers follow the melodies in your head.

This is it. This is your absolute most favorite thing in the whole world. Surrounding yourself in music, collaborating and creating, expressing your spirit through the piano- er, keyboard. Riding the waves of jazz and soul and R&B gives joy to your life in a way that nothing else can. This feeling is what you live for.

Mid-jam, the teacher comes strolling in, and she grooves the whole way from the door to the front of the room, looking absolutely elated at the impromptu music you’ve all created. Wooseok calls out a  _five, six, seven, and…_  to signal everyone to stop at the end of the phrase, and the teacher claps a little too enthusiastically.

“Oh. My goodness.” She beams. “I think this is going to be a fabulous semester.”

* * *

After rehearsal, you catch up to Kino as he tucks his sheet music into his backpack. The long hair on top of his head falls in his eyes, but it could never hide those cheekbones. **  
**

“I had no idea you could sing like that. That Bruno song is perfect for you!” You stand next to him, and he looks up from his seat with a wide smile. You mean every word; his voice absolutely blew you away. He especially stands out in the group because he’s the only male vocalist this semester, but there’s something special about the quality of his voice that gives you goosebumps when he sings.

“Thank you! I’m really excited about it. I love Bruno Mars.” He grins, glowing. “And what about you? It’s like the keys are part of your soul. You’re really freaking good, you know that?”

“Thank you,  _Hyunggu_.” You emphasize his birth name, which the teacher had brought to your attention during roll call.

Kino rolls his eyes, smile suddenly gone from his lips. “I don’t like that name.”

“Sorry,” you laugh quietly. “Why Kino, then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I picked it for myself. It’s like… a stage name.” He stands, gathering his things. “I kind of wanted a fresh start for college, so I’m reinventing myself, I guess.”

“I can respect that.” As the two of you head for the door, you turn back over your shoulder and call out to the friendly giant to confirm the plans you had made. “Wooseok, see you Thursday, yeah?”

The tall drummer points his sticks at you, shooting another charming smile your way. “Thursday.”

When you’re out of the room, Kino asks, “Are you friends with him?”

“Not exactly? I’m going to tutor him in music theory.”

Kino hums quietly. “He seems like a handful.”

“He does, doesn’t he,” you laugh. “We’ll see how it goes.”

The two of you wave goodnight to the security guard in the lobby of the music building before heading out into the illuminated city. A slow smile touches your lips as you look around.

Moving here for university has been one of the biggest adventures of your life. Up until you began school last year, you had never spent much time in such a large city. It’s clear to you now that this is where you’re meant to be; the city energizes you, awakens your senses, and opens up creative doorways you never realized existed. You’ve never felt so true to yourself, so connected to your surroundings.

Everything here had been so perfect until Professor Yang showed up. You feel your smile fade. If he taught at  _literally_ any other university, it would be no problem at all. You could look back fondly on your night together instead of labeling it The Biggest Mistake Of Your Life.

There’s really no point in getting worked up about it, though. Maybe it won’t be a big deal after all. Maybe you’ll talk to him tomorrow, just like Minseo wants you to, and it’ll all be fine. Or you could just ignore each other the whole semester - that might work. You’ll just silently drool over him from your spot at the back of the classroom, trying not to be distracted by the naked memory of him while you take notes. If only he hadn’t been your professor…

If you had crossed paths again under any other circumstances, you would undoubtedly chase down the chance to sleep with him again. Although you are skeptical of your ability to seduce him while sober, you want nothing more than to relive that night with him over and over. Hell, you might even go on a proper date with him, if he asked you.

The thought makes your cheeks burn. You’ve got it  _bad_.

In the end, it’s all just a fantasy. You’ll never sleep with him again, you’ll never go on a date. He’s your professor, and you are his student. Even if you weren’t taking his class, it would be inappropriate to be involved in any sort of romantic capacity. There’s no way that you can be together, and that’s that.

You hate that you actually feel sad about it. 

“Whoa!” Kino’s hand grabs your elbow, yanking you back onto the sidewalk as you start to cross the street, too distracted to notice the oncoming traffic. “Be careful!”

You’re snapped back into the present, watching as a taxi flies by. It would have easily taken you out if you had continued walking. You really need to stop thinking about Professor Yang before you get yourself hurt.

“Are you alright?” Kino’s voice is tight with concern as he holds onto your arm.

You force your smile. “Yeah, sorry. I was just in my head about some things. I promise I’m not usually so distracted while walking.”

His hand lingers on your arm for a moment as he scans your face, and the corner of his mouth lifts as he lets you go. “I sure hope you’re not or you’re going to be in trouble without me around.”

The light changes, and you both safely step into the crosswalk. “But you know, if I got hit by a car, I could probably sue for enough money to cover my student loans,” you joke. 

“Only if the driver is at fault,” Kino is quick to correct you. “If you’re the one that causes the accident, you can’t get any money from it. But nice try.”

“Damn. There’s never an easy solution.”

“Truth.” He chuckles. “Maybe we should have gone to business school or medical school to get a degree that would actually give us financial security.”

With a groan, you roll your eyes. That sentiment is all too familiar. “You sound like my parents.”

“Mine, too.” Kino sighed. “They wanted me to be a doctor. Yours?”

“Secretary to a CEO. What kind of sexist bullshit is that?” You frown. “My family is very traditional in the sense that they believe men should be in charge, whether it’s in business or in the family. Women are just there to assist.”

“Wow. That’s unbelievable.” Kino turns to you as you wait to cross another street. “I mean, you don’t seem like you would want to be a CEO, considering your obvious passion for music, but I think you’re definitely capable if worked for it.”

His sincere encouragement brings a genuine smile to your face. “Thanks, Kino. That really means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome.” His cheekbones pop out as he grins. “I’m sure your parents will come around eventually.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I mean, the whole secretary thing was already an improvement from their original wish for me.”

“Which was…?” 

“Farmer’s wife.”

“What?” Kino burst into laughter. “That’s impossible to imagine.”

“Well I grew up on a farm, so it’s not that big of a stretch.”

“Really?”

You nod, safely crossing the street as the light changes. “Yeah. I’m from a really small town a few hours south of here. My family runs a wheat farm. My mom taught me how to cook and sew and everything, as if we were living in the nineteen-fifties. They didn’t even want me to get a degree at first because they thought it was unnecessary.”

“So how did you end up here?” 

“I begged and pleaded until they finally caved. I asked for a chance to pursue something I really love. This is my one shot, so I really have to give it my all. I don’t think they’ll give me another chance. If I screw this up, they’ll probably try to marry me off to the neighbor boy or something.”

“We can’t have that.” Kino’s sweet smile radiates as he looks over at you. “I’m rooting for you, _____.”

Your chest fills with warmth. You’re so thankful to have made friends at school that are supportive of your dreams, and you’re glad to find that same support in Kino. “And I for you.”

Together, you veer off to the left, away from the glittering skyline of the city. You ask, “So where are you from? Is your family nearby?”

“Very near, actually.” He gestures vaguely south. “I grew up on the south side.”

“Ah.” You hide your frown, but your curt response gives you away. You’ve heard all kinds of rotten things about the gang-related violence of the south side, and you can’t imagine someone like Kino surviving in that kind of environment.

“It’s not as terrible and dangerous as you probably think. It’s got a bad reputation, but it’s not all rotten.”

You just nod. “So, wait, do you still live there? Aren’t you headed the wrong way?”

With a shake of his head, he replies, “No, I’m living on campus, at Plymouth. Part of my whole fresh start, you know? Had to get out of the house and experience living on my own for a while.”

Plymouth is across the street from your own dorm. “I’m at Turner!”

“We’re basically neighbors,” Kino comments.

As your buildings start to come into view, you realize how close they actually are. And how your room actually has a very direct view of Plymouth.

“Please tell me you don’t live on the east side of the building.”

“I do, actually. Why?”

You laugh. “I’m going to have to start closing my blinds whenever I get dressed.”

His eyes grow wide. “Have you been giving my whole dorm a peep show for the last week?”

“Maybe?” You cover your face with your hands as you continue to laugh, embarrassed. This summer’s sexual awakening may have persuaded you to live a bit more adventurously… Is Kino blushing?

“Don’t worry, I never noticed.” He spoke softly. “So don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” you murmur with a quiet chuckle, surprised that you’re not terribly concerned with what he may or may not have seen so far. You turn the corner, headed for the entrance to Turner Hall, and Kino keeps up with you.

“Oh, hey, I was wondering…” He starts, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. “Since we’re in a lot of classes together this semester, maybe we could swap phone numbers? You know, in case either of us wants help with homework, or is going to miss class or something.”

“Good idea!” You agree, pulling up in front of the building’s entrance. You fish your own phone from your backpack and bring up the ‘New Contact’ screen before swapping phones with him. Once you’ve traded numbers, you pocket your phone. “Well, city boy, I’m gonna head inside now. I’ll see you later?”

He nods, waving as he backs away. “See you, farm girl.”

You watch as he crosses the street, heading for Plymouth. Something about him makes you feel at ease, and you have a feeling you’ll end up spending quite a bit of time getting to know him this semester. With all of the classes you share, you’re going to see him nearly every day of the week, and he seems pretty eager to be your friend. You wouldn’t mind that.

Turning to head inside, you fish your room key out of your wallet, swiping it at the security desk as you pass by. As you call the elevator, a familiar dark figure appears in your peripheral.

You turn to greet him as the elevator door opens. “Hey, Yuto.”

He nods silently, and you both file into the elevator.

“I didn’t realize we live in the same building.”  You press floor nine and wait for him to make his selection, but he doesn’t budge. “…Or the same floor?”

“Small world,” he murmurs quietly, seemingly unfazed.

An uncomfortably awkward silence fills the small elevator, and you absentmindedly toy with the strap of your backpack as you search for something to talk about. “Are you excited about our set list?”

He shrugs so minutely you hardly even notice. “We’ve got some good music.”

It doesn’t really seem like he wants to talk to you, and you’re not one to push him into a conversation, even though it’s painfully awkward. You just hum quietly and let it be.

The door glides open, and you both head left down the hallway. He stops at the door directly across the hall from yours. Without a word, he disappears into his room.

How neighborly.

* * *

“Minseo, I’m freaking out.” You paced in the small hotel room you had both chipped in on, just a floor above your destination for the night. “Am I seriously going to do this?” **  
**

“Relax, would you?” She sat calmly atop the queen sized bed, watching as you almost lost your balance from turning too quickly. “It’s not like this is your first time.”

“But it’s my first time with a  _random guy_. Can I even do that?” You froze in place. “Am I even allowed to do that?”

“_____! Of course you’re allowed! You’re an adult!” Minseo sprung up from the bed and grabbed you by the shoulders. “There is nothing wrong with you going downstairs and sleeping with a man you just met. If that’s something you want to do, then I fully support it. You should let yourself have some fun.”

You let out a small, frustrated whine. “I want to. Sweet baby  _Jesus_ , I want to.”

Her hands moved up to cup your face. “Okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

Nodding, you exhaled slowly. “I’m an adult. I can do this.”

“Yes! That’s the spirit.” She patted your cheeks before turning you around and walking you towards the bathroom. “Now go jump in the shower.”

“Shower?”

“You don’t want to show up all sweaty, do you?”

“Am I sweaty?”

“Go freshen up.” She pushed you into the small bathroom. “But don’t get your hair wet. Just make sure you’re clean down there.”

Your eyes widened and you realized she was right - it wasn’t a bad idea to shower for the sake of below-the-belt cleanliness. “Okay.”

“Good girl. Try not to fall over in there.” Minseo encouraged you as she shut the door.

Five minutes and one off-key ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ shower concert later, you emerged from the bathroom a new woman. You felt as fresh as you smelled, and the steam from the shower had helped clear your mind a bit - but not everything was perfect.

Wrapped in a towel, you held your dress and underwear in your hand, and a pout crept onto your face. “Minseooooooo.”

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“I’m clean, but my clothes aren’t.”

She pried her eyes from the television, which was playing some trashy reality show, and she gestured for you to come towards her. “Let me see the dress.” You handed it to her and she looked it over, sniffing it here and there. “I mean, it’s not like dry-cleaners fresh, but it doesn’t reek. There’s not much you can do about that anyway, since we obviously didn’t pack a change of clothes.”

You pursed your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

“Nix the underwear, though.”

“What?” Your cheeks flamed. “No underwear?”

“You heard me.” She plucked the panties from your hand and tossed them over her shoulder into the corner of the room. “You’ll feel gross putting dirty underwear on after you’ve showered, right? And besides, he’ll think it’s super hot that you’re commando.”

“Or he’ll think I’m a slut. What if he likes nice girls that enjoy wearing underwear? Hm?”

“Honey, he wouldn’t have invited you to his room if he wanted a nice girl who likes underwear.” Minseo took your hand affectionately. “It’s okay to be slutty.”

You furrowed your brow at her for a moment before a sly smile touched your lips and you let out a small giggle. “Am I turning into a slut?”

“Only if you want to, dear.”

“I might want to. I might want to be a slut for Hongseok.” You burst into a ball of laughter, absolutely giddy.

“Alright.” Minseo laughed too, handing you back your dress. “Put this back on and get ready to slut it up.”

* * *

By the time you and Shinhye enter the science building on Tuesday morning, you’ve almost entirely rid yourself of the dread gurgling low in your gut at the thought of seeing him. You tell yourself that it’s just another class, he’s just another teacher, and you will survive this. Sipping at the coffee Shinhye insisted on stopping for, you do your best to keep a level head.

Minseo’s advice rings in your ears.  _Tell him that you’re not going to say anything about what happened. Tell him that you want him to treat you normally. That’s what you want, right?_

When you had called her last week, she had easily convinced you that talking to him about the whole situation would be a good idea. But now that the day of confrontation has arrived, you’re simply too chicken to even consider saying a word. Besides, you weren’t entirely sure how coherently you’d be able to talk to him while sober, given the fact that you still swoon a little every time you look at him. 

When you step into the classroom, you hardly glance in Professor Yang’s direction. He’s seated at the desk, typing away on his laptop. You focus on your seat at the back of the room, preparing for another few hours of being ignored, but before you can make it too far you hear him call your name.

“_____.”

The sound sends a delicious ripple through your limbs, and you turn your head at a sloth’s pace, afraid to make eye contact. He casually waves you over to his desk, as if it’s no big deal that  _he just acknowledged you_  and that  _he wants you to come over_ so you can  _presumably talk one on one_.

Shinhye continues on to her seat after giving you a curious look, and you turn back, making your way over to Professor Yang. He’s fixated on his computer as you walk over, but he glances up at you ever so briefly when you reach his desk.

His voice is low as he acknowledges you. “Stop by my office after class. I think we need to talk.”

A lump fills your throat and you’re unable to speak. You really aren’t able to avoid it after all.

He peeks up at you again, probably curious because of your lack of verbal response, so you nod. He picks up a stack of papers and hands them to you. “Please pass these out to your classmates.”

You take the packets - it’s today’s lab paperwork. He gestures to the rest of the class as if to say  _well, go on then,_  and you frown. You don’t expect him to be friendly with you, but frankly he’s coming across kind of rude and bossy, and that doesn’t sit well with you. Begrudgingly, you do as he asks and distribute the packets.

When you return to your seat, Shinhye is quick to ask, “What was that about?”

“He just wanted help passing stuff out.” Not totally a lie.

“I didn’t realize you were such a teacher’s pet,” she teases.

“I’m not a teacher’s pet. He asked me, so what could I do? It’s not like I begged him to let me help.”

“Whoa, relax. It’s just a joke.” Shinhye chuckled, adjusting the circular frames that rest on her nose. “It’s not like you to be so uptight.”

You take a deep breath, getting your head on straight. You need to be normal around Shinhye. With a plastered on smirk, you tease back. “That’s your job, right?”

Shinhye purses her lips, but you can see the smile in her eyes. You laugh.

“Aw, come on, I love youuuuu.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she brushes off your affections, pushing you away when you lean in to coo over her. “Love you, too.”

You smile. You may have to keep her in the dark, but her friendship will surely be one of the only things that can keep you sane through the rest of the semester.

* * *

It took a solid five minutes of pacing in front of his hotel room door before you finally worked up the courage to knock. Your stomach twisted in knots as you rapped your knuckles against the wood, checking for the thousandth time that the little door number definitely said 417.

You were really doing it. You were really getting ready to probably sleep with someone you just met. You had never done anything like that before, but it was about time you grew up and had a sense of adventure, right?

Any semblance of confidence you had slowly started to fade as you realized the door was not opening. Had you waited too long to come over? Was he already asleep? Were you at the wrong room altogether? Had he intentionally given you the wrong number? Why would he do that?

You tried knocking once more, but still no one answered. Disappointment swelled in your chest, tugging at your heart - you were surprised by how much you cared. He was just some guy, anyway. But it hurt to think that you may have just been rejected. After all, the fear of rejection had kept you from approaching him in the first place.

After another minute of waiting, you decided that you needed to move on. He wasn’t going to answer the door. You headed for the stairwell, resigning yourself to a night with Minseo instead.

As you reached for the door to the stairs, the elevator next to you opened and a loud group of people spilled out. You assumed they were all coming up from the wedding, judging by their attire. And to your delight, one of the last people off the elevator was exactly the gorgeous man you had been waiting for.

You met Hongseok’s eyes, a slow smile stretching across your lips. Perhaps not all hope for the night was lost.

He slid his hands into his pockets with a coy smile, his tux jacket draped over his arm. “Going somewhere?”

“I thought you gave me a phony room number,” you confessed, tongue lazily forming the words. Wow, you definitely drank more than you should have.

“I would have to be crazy to do that to you.” His gaze traveled down your figure, lingering on the hand that gripped the door handle. “Still want to come over?”

Nodding, you tried your best to contain your nervousness and look cool as you released the handle, letting the door close quietly.

He cocked his head in the direction of his room, a relaxed smirk on his lips. “Let’s go, then.”

You followed him back to room 417, and he opened the door, stepping aside to let you in first. Despite the wave of nervousness that washed over you, you felt ready. Eager, even. You let your hand casually brush against his leg as you slip into the room, desperate to touch him again.

His hand darted out to capture yours - rough skin but a gentle touch. Your feet froze and you turned back to meet his piercing gaze, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest as the door closed behind him.

What should you do? How did hook-ups usually work? Chat first and then work your way up to the main event, or just dive in head first? You were clueless. You knew that you wanted to rip that damn shirt off of him, to press yourself against him and get lost in the feel of his skin. But you didn’t want to be too forward and make things uncomfortable.

Taking his time, Hongseok approached you slowly, smoothing your hair and lifting your chin with his knuckle, fingers still wrapped around your wrist. Heat blossomed in your core as you looked up at him, thinking he might just go for it and kiss you. Maybe he was as impatient as you felt. Maybe he needed to have you, too.

He leaned in, but he didn’t aim for your lips. He targeted your ear, murmuring softly and tickling you with his breath. “You’re cute.”

Warmth spread rapidly across your cheeks and you quietly stuttered, “Th-thank you.”

But it was just a tease, hardly even a taste of how it felt to be close to him. He backed away, pulling you a bit deeper into the room before releasing your hand. “Mind if I play some music?”

You shook your head carefully, resisting the urge to take his hand back. “Not at all.”

As he fished out his cell phone and plugged it into the speakers that sat on the desk, you looked around the room and took a seat at the edge of the bed. It wasn’t a particularly fancy hotel, so the room was pretty basic. Just a standard queen size hotel bed, a dresser, TV, and a nightstand on either side of the bed - pretty much identical to the room you and Minseo reserved upstairs. An open gym bag sat on the floor, which you assumed he was using for his overnight stay.

“You said you like Marvin Gaye, right?” He typed into his phone, smiling to himself.

His song selection started playing, and you immediately recognized the first few notes as the opening to ‘Let’s Get It On’. You couldn’t help but laugh because of the cheesy song choice, hoping that he wasn’t seriously trying to set the mood with that one. “Really? 'Let’s Get It On’?”

He laughed at your critical reaction, sweet eyes crinkling at the corners. “Too forward?”

“You think?” You kicked your legs, too short to reach the floor from where you sat. “Try again.”

“I’ll admit, my knowledge of old school R&B is not what it should be. I’m more of an old rock fan.” He scrolled through his phone in search of a better song choice.

You jumped up from the bed and strolled over to him, accidentally bumping against his arm as you plucked the phone from his hands. He felt warm and he smelled delicious, so you didn’t make an effort to move away. Your brain was too fuzzy to care about personal space.

“Let me play you something. If you want sexy music, I know sexy music,” you drawled, searching for the specific track that you had in mind. Hongseok slid his hands into his pockets, letting you do as you pleased. He didn’t back away either, so you assumed he didn’t mind the close proximity.

Finally, you found the song despite the many typos in your search: 'Tell Me Something Good’ by Rufus, featuring Chaka Khan. You played it, and your hips instinctively started rolling when the funk guitar started. “Usually people think of R&B as being the sexiest music, but funk is highly overlooked and underrated." 

When the vocals came in, you held his phone up to your mouth like a microphone and sang along, backing away from him to roll your body and put on a show. It briefly crossed your mind that you would never normally act that way. That was exactly the type of idiocy you were trying to avoid by dodging Hongseok earlier in the night. But at the end of the day you loved yourself some karaoke when you were drunk. You couldn’t help but sing along, even if you sounded terrible.

"Hey!” Hongseok called after you with a chuckle, reaching for his phone as you danced away from him. He successfully grabbed it from you, preventing you from disconnecting it from the aux cord.

Never mind the lack of microphone; it just freed up your hands to run down your body, over your curves as you sang. “ _You refuse to put anything before your pride / What I got will knock all your pride aside…”_

He watched you intently, a slight smirk on his lips. Maybe you didn’t look as ridiculous as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just drunk enough to be into it.

You reached for his tie, pulling him towards you as you kept singing. “ _Tell me something good / Tell me that you love me, yeah…”_

“But I hardly know you,” he remarked, hands finding your hips.

With a fluttering of your eyelashes, you responded teasingly, “Oh, you don’t believe in love at first sight?”

“I do,” he smiled down at you, thumbs digging into your hips. “But only because I saw the way you looked at me and I  _knew_  you had fallen head over heels." 

"Cocky piece of shit,” you laughed, throwing your arms over Hongseok’s shoulders as you danced together. “The thing is, though, you’re not exactly wrong. I mean, you got me to show up here, which would have been impossible for anyone else.”

“And I didn’t even have to try. Look at you,” Hongseok scanned your face, and you knew you must have looked like a girl in love. He was beautiful and you couldn’t help your adoration. “You’re in deep.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “What ever shall we do? I’m a lost cause.”

“You may not be the only one.”

There was something unbearably warm in his eyes as he said it, and it made your pulse race. He obviously didn’t mean it; he’s no more in love with you than you are with him. It was impossible that either one of you felt love for the other. It could only be blamed on lust, an inexplicable attraction between the two of you that left you weak in the knees with craving. But even so, it was fun to play pretend.

His breath gently rippled across your face. “You know, I was actually surprised to see you when I got off the elevator.”

“Really?” 

"It just seemed like you might talk yourself out of it.”

“Well, I did. That’s why I was at the stairwell,” you admitted with a laugh.

Hongseok’s hands wandered over your ribs and across your back as he pulled you in closer. “Because you didn’t want to see me?”

“Because you weren’t there.” You felt your cheeks growing warm, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I was disappointed because I thought I wouldn’t get to, you know, see you tonight. But I wanted to.  _Want_  to,” you corrected yourself. “I do.”

“I promise,” he murmured, lips curling into a mischievous smile, “you won’t regret it.”

* * *

After class, you make an excuse to Shinhye about how you need to visit with an advisor in the building so that she would leave without you. She is completely unassuming as she accepts your excuse, and you feel a pang of guilt for lying to her. You’ll make it up to her soon; you promise that much to yourself. **  
**

You easily locate Professor Yang’s office, and you’re surprised that you feel the familiar nervous butterflies in your stomach as you knock on the wooden door. It’s so similar to the night you spent with him, even though now you’re meeting under completely different circumstances.

But just like that night, the door doesn’t open, and you have to wait for him to show. You lean against the wall, trying to steady your breathing and calm your racing heart. There’s nothing for you to even be antsy about; you’re just anxious about what he’ll have to say. He’ll probably just tell you exactly what you want to tell him - that you should both pretend nothing happened, and carry on as usual. Fingers crossed that you’ll both be on the same page and there won’t be much discussion.

As you stand there waiting, you start to ponder other possibilities. Surely he’s not going to make some sort of proposition? What if he wants to sleep with you again, but this time with the risk of getting caught? He did ask you to meet him in his very  _private_  office… maybe he didn’t intend to talk at all.

He’d unlock the door and let you inside, casual as could be. But as soon as the door would shut, he’d grab you by the hand and throw you back against it, trapping you between the wood and his heat. His lips would crash into yours as if he has hungered for you since that night, his hands rushing to feel the skin that hides beneath your clothes. You’d wrap a leg around his hip, desperate to feel the friction of his bulge against your core.

You’d beg him to take you then and there: against the door, on his desk, down on the floor. As long as you could have him again, that’s all that would matter.

The thought of it makes your heart race and your mouth dry up, but you squash the fantasy before you can convince yourself that it’s a good idea. As exciting as it may be to think about, you know better this time. You’re not going to sleep with him again. And if he has any sense, he’ll stay the hell away from you.

Professor Yang eventually appears in the hallway, and you stand up a little straighter, hyper-aware of every inch of space between the two of you. He looked great, of course, with his collared shirt that had a single button undone at his throat and his hair swept up to the side. But  _you will not sleep with him._

He barely even greets you before unlocking the door and heading in first. You follow him, and he instructs you to close the door behind you. He doesn’t turn to you, doesn’t grab you or kiss you. That’s a good thing. That’s for the best.

You take a seat across from him at his desk. His office is small and scarcely decorated, with only an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner of the room. The deep mahogany finish is gorgeous, and you wonder if it’s an instrument that Professor Yang made by hand.

He relaxes back into his chair, hand covering his mouth as he looks at you. And he  _really_  looks at you, long and hard, as though he’s trying to peer deep into your heart. It’s incredibly nerve-wracking to be looked at in such a scrutinizing way, especially considering that he’s hardly even glanced at you until now.

“What are the odds…” He mumbles quietly.

You realize that he still hasn’t quite accepted the situation the two of you are in, and that makes you feel a little less alone. “I had no idea this would happen.”

A line forms between his eyebrows, hand falling from his mouth. “You want me to believe that?”

You give him a similarly cynical look. “Excuse me?”

He sits up, anger evident in his piercing gaze. “You must have known! So why did you do it? Because you thought I’d give you a better grade this semester? That I’d be easier on you?”

Taken aback by his accusations, your jaw drops. “What? That’s ridiculous! I would never-”

“Please, don’t try to act all innocent. I can see right through it.”

“I didn’t know! How could-”

“Come on. You don’t recognize me from any of last year’s convocations? You had to have been there to hear me introduce my class.”

Who the hell does this guy think he is? To sit there and accuse you of something so… so  _slimy_  and then refuse to hear you out! You won’t stand for it, even if his commanding tone does send a shock of tingling adrenaline straight to your core.

He may still be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, and you may still be feeling flustered by being in the same room as him… but regardless of those things, you can’t let him walk all over you like this. He could do whatever he wanted to you at the hotel, but not here. This is real life, not a one night stand.

 Every ounce of shyness within you disintegrates as you grit your teeth, preparing to defend yourself. “I am not that kind of girl. I am an intelligent and hard-working student, and I would never do something so disgusting.”

He starts to say something, and you rise to your feet, not yet finished. “Don’t interrupt me again. I never saw you at last year’s convocations because I had to miss almost all of them for personal reasons. Those absences were all approved by the music office, if you feel so inclined to verify with them. And I don’t know what on Earth makes you think this is all something that I set up - if you’ll remember, I very  _clearly_  did my best to avoid you at the wedding. You were the one that approached me, not the other way around. Don’t get that skewed. This is all your doing.”

Professor Yang doesn’t look too eager to ease up. “You were playing hard to get.”

“I was trying to keep my sanity!” You lean over his desk, infuriated by the argument. “I couldn’t think straight around you, you’re so fucking attractive, Jesus  _Christ_.”

You cringe when you realize you’ve lost your filter. You did not mean to say that- not out loud, not to him.

He just sits there, quietly watching you with that same empty expression you’ve seen from him all week. He clenches his fist tightly around a pen, and you feel yourself deflate the longer he looks at you. But you don’t sit down, telling yourself to stay strong and stand your ground.

Eventually he speaks up, and his voice is even as he says, “I think it would be best for you to drop my class.”

“No.”

“I urge you to reconsider.”

“Absolutely not.” You feel a surge of pride in yourself for standing up to him. “This is not how you do your job, Professor. You don’t get to bully me out of your class just because you don’t want me there. I signed up for your class and I intend to see it through to the end. And if you treat me unfairly, I  _will_  report you.”

“You won’t,” he answers calmly, coolly challenging you.

He’s right, it’s an empty threat. But you stick to it. “Yes, I will.”

Professor Yang sighs exasperatedly. “You won’t, because if you report me for unfair treatment, then we’ll both be placed under a microscope. Someone will find out about what happened between us this summer, and we’ll both get in trouble. I’ll lose my job and you’ll be expelled.”

You’ll be expelled? That’s news to you. The reality of the situation hits you like a punch to the gut. You can’t afford to lose your status as a student here; your parents would never forgive you. They already aren’t too happy about the fact that you’re pursuing a degree in music. If you screw yourself over by getting expelled, that’s the end of the line for you.

He continues. “So don’t think that you can blackmail me into boosting your grade or giving you special treatment, because I’m not the only one that will face severe consequences. Get that idea out of your head right now. You can’t threaten me like that. Oh, and don’t even  _think_  that I’ll boost your grade in exchange for sexual favors. That is  _not_  going to work on me.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh my God, are you even listening to me? Who do you think I am? Seriously! I’m not going to try to sleep with you for extra credit. I’m an honest student.”

“I’m only covering our bases to let you know what is unacceptable.” He picks at the stem of the pen’s cap, lifting it with his thumb and releasing so that it clicks in a steady rhythm that is nothing short of irritating.

“Well this could go both ways, couldn’t it?” You cross your arms over your chest. “What’s going to stop you from pursuing me? What’s going to keep you from lowering my grade if I refuse your advances?”

“What even makes you think I would pursue you?” He says it like he wants his words to hurt you, as if he’s trying to make you feel that you’re not worthy of his attention. But it’s pointless; his actions have already proven otherwise.

_You are so gorgeous that I might actually believe in love at first sight._

He had said that to you. It was a baseless, drunken confession, but the fact remains that he has been attracted to you once and he could be attracted to you still.

 _Let’s be drunk and in love, then._  

You had said all sorts of embarrassing things to each other, and your cheeks burn as you remember. You shift your weight, scanning his face as you force yourself to respond. “It wouldn’t be the first time. And from what I remember, you enjoyed yourself an awful lot that night.”

It’s a long, quiet moment. You can practically see that night replaying in his mind, seductive images of you flashing in his eyes. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable to know he’s probably remembering every curve of your naked body; it boosts your confidence that he’s been momentarily flustered by the memory of you.

The pen in his death grip falls to his desk, and he folds his hands in his lap, looking haggard. “If you choose to stay in the class, I promise that I will treat you fairly and I will not make any advances towards you. I promise that you will finish the class with an unbiased grade. However, I think you should seriously consider dropping the class, for both your sanity and mine.”

_For both your sanity and mine._

You can’t quite tell what he means by that. Does he expect you’ll continue to be at each others’ throats for the rest of the semester? Or on the contrary, is he saying it might be difficult to refuse the temptation of each other if you’re forced into the same classroom once a week?

Regardless of the truth behind his words, you’re unwilling to budge on the matter. You calmly return to your seat, collecting your thoughts. “All due respect, but I really don’t want to drop. I have a very genuine interest in your class, and I’ve been looking forward to it since I signed up. I don’t want to sacrifice my education because of this.”

“Then I will remind you that you have another two weeks to withdraw if you change your mind, and I won’t bring it up again.”

You both fall quiet, and you hate the feeling of regret bubbling in your stomach. You shouldn’t have slept with him. You knew it was a bad idea but you went and did it anyway. And what makes it even worse is that now one of the best nights of your life is colored with regret. You want to remember that feeling of being so alive without immediately hating yourself for your poor decision making skills.

He pulls you out of your puddle of self-loathing as he asks, “Have you told anybody about this?”

You shake your head, but realize immediately that you’re wrong. “Actually, my cousin knows. The one at the wedding that sort of instigated this whole thing.”

“Expected. But you haven’t said anything to anyone about the current situation?”

You take a deep breath. “I called that same cousin a few days ago. She knows you’re my professor and everything. I just had to say something, I was going crazy.”

“Is she a student here too?”

“No, she’s not.”

“Okay. You can’t tell anyone else though, understood?”

You frown, a crease forming between your brows. “I won’t, jeez. You’re acting like you’re the only one that has something to lose. I’m not out to get you. I’m scared, too.”

He rubs his temple. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure we’re protecting ourselves.”

Your ears perk up at the word  _sorry_. So he  _is_  capable of apologizing! “An apology for earlier would be nice, too,” you grumble.

“For what, exactly?”

You frown. “For falsely accusing me of setting this up.”

“I don’t know for sure that those accusations are false.”

“You’re kidding.” Your blood boils. You had no idea that you’ve spent all this time fawning over such a prick. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“That doesn’t really matter, does it? What matters is that it doesn’t happen again. Understood?” He easily evades your question, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

“Rest assured, you are safe from my relentless pursuit.” You roll your eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm, and you grab your bag, ready to leave. There’s nothing else that can be done here. “I’ll do my best not to unintentionally seduce you, you poor helpless thing.”

“You don’t have to be childish.”

“ _You_  don’t have to be a dick, but here we are.” You resist the urge to kick his desk. You can’t remember the last time you felt so frustrated. You stare each other down until you finally break away from him, turning to head for the door. Clearly he’s not going to apologize, so there’s no point to sticking around any longer.

“Wait, _____. One more thing.”

You hate the way your whole body electrifies at the sound of your name. Screw him and the way his perfect mouth forms the damned syllables.

“I hate to ask, and maybe I don’t even want to know… but how old are you?”

Frowning, you answer. “Nineteen. Turning twenty in like, two months.”

“Nineteen?!”

You grip the door handle and look over your shoulder at him. “Yeah, nineteen.”

“Oh my God, you’re a baby.” He drags his hands down his face. “Nineteen? Really?”

You ignore his baby comment; making a fuss over it would only prove his point. “How old did you think I was?”

“At least twenty-two or twenty-three. I mean, Christ, you were drinking at the wedding. I didn’t realize you were underage.”

“Don’t say that I’m underage, that makes it sound like you screwed a teenager.”

“Well technically I did.  _Nineteen_. God dammit, shit…”

You crinkle your nose, realizing that you never really considered the age gap between the two of you. “And how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six.”

Seven years. He’s seven years older than you. That’s kind of a lot. “Like… just turned twenty-six?”

He nods, speechless for once, like his voice just gave up. So, closer to six-ish years. That’s not… awful…

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t realize that I was screwing a senior citizen so-”

“Don’t.” He cuts you off, raising his hand in warning. “Don’t do that. Don’t start getting sassy, don’t start joking around with me. Just don’t.”

Another sassy remark is readied at the tip of your tongue, but you hold back when you notice that he almost looks pained. Why does he look pained?

You let it go and turn the knob, yanking the door open. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

He nods, unwilling to meet your eyes, and you close the door behind you.

* * *

You stomp the whole way down State Street to the music building, steam shooting from your ears after your 'meeting’ with Professor Yang. **  
**

Curse him and his stupid asshat attitude. Screw him for being devilishly handsome and for being the world’s biggest dick. How could you have slept with someone like him? How could you let yourself get into this mess?

You get to the main office on the third floor, and the reception desk is regrettably empty. You peek around for a student worker, but there is no one to be found. Even the doors to the professors’ offices are closed, implying that they are away or otherwise unavailable.

Huffing, you grab a pen from the cup on the reception desk and scribble a message onto the notepad sitting there. You explain in perhaps too-colorful language that you are in desperate need of photocopies of your approved excuse cards from last spring’s convocations, and you leave your cell phone number so that you can be contacted when said photocopies are available.

The anger that clouds the corners of your vision starts to dissipate as you tuck the note under the computer mouse for the student worker to find later. You’re frustrated by everything Professor Yang has said to you, and you’re frustrated by the fact that even what you believe to be an easy fix is not instantaneously possible. If you can just get the damned excuse cards to him, then he would  _have_  to believe you when you say you’re clueless. Right? He’d probably never admit it, but you just need to know that he knows that you’re telling the truth. You can’t stand being called a liar.

You pull the cell phone out of your backpack as you trudge towards the stairs. What you really need right now is to hang out with someone and distract yourself from the bullshit with Professor Dickface. You want to call Shinhye, but you know that she’ll be on her way to her next class shortly. And then you think of Kino, whose phone number you snagged after rehearsal yesterday. Maybe you should see what he’s up to.

You call him, only momentarily thinking it might be weird to call instead of texting. But before you have a chance to second guess, he picks up.

“Farm girl! Hi.” You can barely hear him over the rush of wind, but the nickname makes you smile.

“Hey. You busy?”

“Not exactly. Why?”

“I just need to get my mind off of something and I was wondering if you might want to hang out.”

“Sure! Where are you?”

“Music building. You?”

“On my way there, actually. I was going to snag a practice room to start working on some stuff for R&B ensemble. Do you want to practice with me?”

You smile, releasing a careful sigh. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

As you step down the last stretch of stairs, you see Kino coming through the revolving door, his hair a mess from the wind. He spots you and waves, ending the call and pocketing his phone. He meets you at the stairwell. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You point upstairs. “Shall we?”

Together, you head back up and wind down a hallway to find an empty practice room. Thankfully you snag one with a baby grand instead of one of the dinky upright pianos.

“So, something’s bothering you?” Kino inquires, dropping his backpack onto a chair and rifling through it in search of his music.

“Yeah, but I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s alright.” Well, it’s not that you don’t want to talk about it, it’s just that you can’t. Well, shouldn’t. Won’t.

“I hear you loud and clear. We’ll just make some music, and if that doesn’t help you feel better, we’ll go get milkshakes or something. Milkshakes make everything better.” He raises his eyebrows at you as he sets his music on a stand.

You nod, sliding onto the piano bench. “That sounds great. Maybe we should get milkshakes regardless.”

“Honestly, I am one-hundred percent down for a milkshake. Have you been to the ice cream shop down on Thirteenth?” He groans when you shake your head. “Okay, then it’s a done deal. We have to go.”

“I will not refuse.” You smile, feeling lighter already.

You rehearse together for nearly an hour, and you let the music completely occupy your mind. You don’t think about Professor Douche-Cock; you don’t think about the way he infuriates you and you  _certainly_  don’t think about your still overwhelming attraction to him. For that hour, your mind and soul can breathe.

* * *

“What’s on your mind?” Hongseok’s voice flowed over you, a gentle creek warmed by the hot summer sun. **  
**

Humming quietly, your eyes fluttered shut and you inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet, fresh scent of him, his cologne mingling with the alcohol on his breath. “You.”

“Me?”

The two of you had long since lost track of the music, swaying lazily and dancing way too close. You felt so absorbed in the grip of his hands and the solidness of his body under those damn clothes and you could no longer think straight. You needed to touch his skin, to feel his lips. His face was mere inches from yours - far too much of a temptation.

“You, your lips, your hands, your…” You trailed off with a sly grin. “I’m thinking about everything you’re hiding under your tux." 

"What a coincidence,” he murmured, his fingertips dragging over your exposed back. “I can’t stop imagining how you’ll look when your dress is finally on the floor.”

Your heart raced. He finally admitted to what had been implied all night - that he wanted you naked, that he would get you naked. Of course, that had been your plan all along, but hearing him verbalize it made you quiver with excitement. You needed him… you were desperate.

“When are you going to kiss me?” You couldn’t stop the words before they spilled from you of their own volition. But regardless of the unwarranted sentiments, you felt a bold smile form on your lips.

Hongseok chuckled, amused. He pulled you in tighter, the tip of his nose brushing yours as he leaned in. “Wouldn’t it be too easy if I just gave you what you wanted?”

“I really don’t care.” You touched your forehead to his, challenging him. You knew he wanted to. He had to.

His shallow breath fanned over your face as he cupped your cheek. “Neither do I.“

A rush of adrenaline burst through your veins as Hongseok closed the gap, finally pressing his lips to yours. Each kiss laced with passionate desire, he held nothing back as he kissed you once, twice, a thousand times over. Your hands traveled up into his soft hair as your lips crashed into his, and he securely grabbed your waist, tugging you towards the bed.

Hongseok sat on the edge of the mattress and you eagerly climbed up onto his lap, straddling him and sighing softly when you felt his hardening length between your legs. You could tell that he had a lot to offer. 

He grabbed your wrists and redirected your hands to his tie, and your mouths never separated as you worked to slide the material out from his collar. You quickly moved onto the buttons of his vest and shirt, and he reached around you to tug at the zipper of your dress, both of you completely consumed with the overwhelming need to press skin against skin. You only pulled away when you finally ripped open his shirt, wanting just a moment to take in the sight of him.

He was extremely muscular, as you had expected, and it was almost intimidating how utterly perfect his torso was. You ran your fingers over his rippled abdomen, entranced by the dips and peaks of each muscle. His skin was hot to the touch, and it sent a delicious shock through you.

"How…” You started a question, but you didn’t really know where it was going. With a gorgeous face and perfect body, Hongseok was simply too good to be true. You were awestruck, your hands coming to rest on the solid curve of his pecs.

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet.” He rocked his hips ever so slightly, reminding you that there was even more left to reveal.

“You’re so cocky,” you giggled, shrugging off the straps of your dress as he peeled the fabric away. You might have been more shy about stripping if you had been sober, but your wine-induced haze made you more than ready to be rid of the damn dress.

“I think you’ll find I have good reason to be.” His eyes flashed and he pressed another long kiss against your lips. He tasted of bourbon and promiscuity, and you wanted all of it. You were drunk on him. All you wanted was to kiss him for all of eternity. 

Hongseok’s rough fingers ran along the bare skin of your sides as he pulled your dress down around your waist. With your dress half off, you felt wildly exposed, but in the best possible way. His lips separated from yours so that he could get a look at you the way you had with him. 

As his eyes scanned down from your face to your chest, you couldn’t help the slight blush that came to your cheeks. It was embarrassing to be looked at that way, but it was also thrilling to watch him drink you in.

“You are absolutely gorgeous. Have I told you that yet?” His eyes met yours, a sweet smile touching his lips despite the darkness of his blown-out pupils. 

“Don’t think you’ve mentioned it,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out before he crashed into your lips, his hot tongue pressing past the seam. You gladly accepted it, yanking his shirt off of his shoulders and pressing yourself harder against him. His strong arms wrapped around you completely, trapping you in his heat as your tongues wrestled. The kiss was sloppy and messy, but you were too distracted by wanting him to care.

As Hongseok continued kissing you, his hand slipped between your bodies in search of your breast, carefully massaging it and running his calloused thumb over your nipple until it stood up for him. He twisted the sensitive bud between his fingers, drawing a pleasured gasp from you. You had never considered yourself to be especially sensitive to physical touch - not any more than the next person, anyway - but Hongseok threw all of your senses into overdrive, driving you wild with the simplest of touches.

You ground your pelvis against his desperately, and his lips trailed along the skin just under your jaw as he worked his way down to your breast. You arched your back to give him better access, shuddering when his teeth grazed over your neck and collarbone. How could you feel so good already?

Hongseok’s mouth latched onto your breast, and he sloppily lapped at your nipple while pinching the one still in his hand. It made the room spin; you were so lightheaded with pleasure you could hardly stand it. Panting heavily, you dug your fingers into his impressively muscular back, cursing yourself for keeping your fingernails so short. He seemed like the kind of guy who might like getting scratched up.

You continued rocking your hips as his mouth moved to your other breast and his hand traced up your thigh, sneaking under the skirt of your dress. Every inch of skin he traversed felt like a mile, taking far too long to reach the juncture of your thigh and your hip. You grinned wickedly as he felt for the strap of your nonexistent underwear, his tongue even pausing its ministrations as he realized that you were, in fact, completely bare beneath your dress.

With a soft groan, he slipped his other hand under your dress, fingers splayed across the round curve of your ass. He released your nipple from his mouth and his fox eyes flashed as he focused in on your face. “You are full of surprises.”

“All good, I hope.” Your chest tightened as you smiled at him, and your drunk self dared to think you might be falling in love. 

“Only the best,” he murmured lowly before capturing your mouth in another passionate kiss, his lips embracing yours as he gave your ass a squeeze. You rocked your hips fervidly, desperate to feel some sort of relief, and he caught you off guard when he lifted you, his forearms sliding under your thighs for support. Surprised, you laughed against his mouth and held tightly onto his shoulders. Jesus, he was strong.

Hongseok stood with you in his arms, turning around so he could lay you down on the bed. His lips stayed on yours the whole way down. He hovered over you, propping himself up with one arm, his other hand running over your thigh. His callouses scratched your skin and you purred at the sensation. You wanted those hands all over you.

His knuckles tracked along your inner thigh until his fingers discovered your folds, and you felt him smirk against your lips. You were dripping just from kissing him, and you were sure he approved. Softly, he traced your folds with the pad of his finger and his thumb teased the area around your clit.

You whimpered, squirming with anticipation as he circled your sex. He was such a tease, taking his time and slowly unraveling you. And it was working; you were falling to pieces and he had hardly even touched you.

Hongseok pressed a single finger past your entrance and his mouth moved south to your neck, giving you space to moan. He nibbled at the base of your throat before sliding his tongue up the length of it. “I want to taste you,” he murmured into your neck, a quiet growl in his voice.

His simple words made you clench around his finger; you would love that more than anything. Breathy, you said, “Yes, please, do whatever you want.” You completely gave yourself up to him, a bundle of nervous energy electrifying your gut. Anything he wanted to do to you, you would gladly receive.

Without hesitation, Hongseok kneeled between your legs, and a chill ran through you at the absence of his heat. He looked beautiful with hair tousled from your fingers and his lips pink from your kiss. How on Earth had you ever gotten so lucky?

His eyes scanned over your body as his finger slid out of you, his hands urging your skirt further up your hips before refocusing his attention on your clit. You gasped as he made contact, your legs jerking at the jolt of pleasure.

A smirk fell on his lips as he toyed with your most sensitive spot. “You are so hot, oh my God…”

You weren’t really sure if you should respond - or if you were even capable of responding - but Hongseok’s lips were suddenly on your folds and your mind went completely blank. His tongue prodded at your entrance before working its way up to your clit, and when he started sucking you swore you were blinded with pleasure.

You fought the immediate tension that coursed through you, not wanting to get wound up too quickly and end it too soon. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and you were convinced you’d never again find someone as gorgeous and fucking  _amazing_  at oral as Hongseok. You had to enjoy it. 

Hongseok massaged your folds as he continued eating you out, and you couldn’t help but pinch your nipples, amplifying the ripples he sent throughout your body, careful not to take it too far. You whined as you twisted them and he lapped at your clitoris, his finger sliding inside of you once more. You were filled with sensation, and nothing could have been more perfect.

“That’s… aa- _aahhh_ … ohh…” You tried desperately to encourage him, but words were difficult to come by. But he must have understood; he kept up with that same tongue pattern, stroking two fingers carefully against your walls. Sooner than anticipated, he brought you right to the edge. “Hong… Hongseok, yes… plea- _oh_ …”

He didn’t change his pace, didn’t change pressure. He just continued in exactly the same manner until you broke, a series of short, squeak-like moans coming from you as an incredibly powerful orgasm washed over you. He pressed a flat tongue against your clit as you climaxed; you felt so full and warm and beautiful.

When your pulse was no longer racing he released you, and you hummed quietly. You eyed him as he stood, his chin and chest wet with your arousal and his erection straining against his pants: an absolute Adonis if you’d ever seen one.

You were speechless, grinning up at him like a fool. Everything felt so  _good_. How could a human make you feel that way? He might have actually been a god.

Hongseok helped you sit up, and lifted the dress up over your head so you were fully in the nude. Wiping at his chin, he smirked and then reached for his belt buckle. “I hope you’re not too tired. After all, we’re just getting started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Rights Reserved © gwentory. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr @gwentory (now @gwentoryfics)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.
> 
> Warnings | EXPLICIT SMUT. Seriously, this is just straight-up filth. Multiple orgasms. Oral sex (male receiving). Fingering. Penetrative sex. Lots of swearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than most updates will be, but it felt appropriate to leave this as a mostly smut-only update. Enjoy, my sweet little peaches.

“I hope you’re not too tired. After all, we’re just getting started.”

Hongseok carefully unfastened his belt, standing between your legs at the foot of the bed, devastatingly sexy as he towered over you. Lust sparked through you like static, igniting every inch of your skin and showering you in tingles. How could it even be possible to be so attracted to another person?

He softly smoothed your hair before tipping your chin up with his knuckle. “How are you feeling?”

“Absolutely… phenomenal.” Bleary-eyed, you touched his wrist, easing out of your orgasm-induced haze. You couldn’t help but notice the scent of your arousal on his fingers as you lifted his hand to your lips, taking his pointer finger into your mouth and sucking gently. It tasted of absolute sin.

Hongseok’s breath was strained as he watched you defile his finger. “Do you need a break?”

You shook your head slowly side to side. It was sweet that he wanted to check in, make sure that the pace was good for you. But you weren’t at all concerned - the last thing you needed (or wanted) was a break. All you needed (and wanted) was him. Without a doubt, he was it.

Popping his finger out of your mouth, you reached for his pants, boldly running your knuckles along his hardened length and taking note of the wetness that covered it - definitely your fault, since you had been grinding on him without panties. You desperately needed to get this man naked, to see for yourself exactly what he had been hiding, to taste him as he had tasted you. Flicking your eyes up to meet his, you grinned slyly. “I want to return the favor.”

He stepped out of his shoes with a matching smile. “Please do.”

Nimbly, your fingers unfastened his pants, and the fabric crumpled at his ankles. His hardened cock pulled tightly against his black boxer briefs, which clung snugly to him. He looked gorgeous with his muscular thighs and chiseled torso… and that  _bulge_! It was all too good to be true; you simply couldn’t believe that he was a real human being.

You traced over the dips and peaks of his muscles until you could no longer avoid the draw of his cock. Gently brushing over his erection, you eagerly cupped his length, awed by the size of him. For only a moment, you fretted that he might be  _too_  big. You bit your lower lip in anticipation. You couldn’t wait to find out just how well he would fit.

Meeting his eyes, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down and finally releasing him. He watched with a seductive smile that made your whole body feel hot.

Lust poured through you as you took in his naked form, his full, thick cock commanding your attention. You reached out to touch it, spreading the leaking precum over his red, swollen tip. He was so solid in your palm, and you wondered if it was painful. But judging by the look on his face, each stroke of your hand brought nothing but pleasure.

Unexpectedly, he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you, as if his lips had been separated from yours for far too long and he could no longer stand it. Your drunken heart eagerly accepted him as your mouths melded together, and you imagined that must be how it felt whenever a soul has met its mate.

His lips tasted of you, of something sweet and tangy and utterly filthy in the most spectacular way. They spoke to you of the way he loved pleasing you and made promises to drive you wild for the rest of the night.

Eagerly, you pressed your tongue past his lips, wanting to reciprocate every ounce of desire in the kiss. He hummed quietly as you continued to stroke him, so soft you almost didn’t notice.

Without separating from your mouth, Hongseok sat next to you on the bed’s edge. You moaned when he bit down on your bottom lip, his hand tangling in your hair and tugging gently. Everything he did was perfect and sent shivers racing through your limbs.

You could have kissed him all night, but the throbbing cock in your hand was begging for your mouth’s attention. With one last kiss you finally pulled away from him, flashing a coy smile before lowering your mouth to his cock.

Your tongue traveled his length from base to tip, lapping up his salty, musky precum. But as much as you would love to tease him, you couldn’t stop yourself from taking his cock into your mouth without hesitation, squeezing the base with your hand as you sucked deeply.

Hongseok groaned beautifully as you worked him, swirling your tongue and taking him in as far as you could. Each sound he made struck you deep in your core; you were so excited that he was vocal in bed because you  _lived_  for those filthy noises. Every hiss and moan showed you just how much he was enjoying himself.

When your hand moved to cup his balls, you felt his fingers brush down your spine. It was almost enough to make you shiver - his touch was so delicate. His hand traveled down over the curve of your ass, pausing just long enough to give it a good, hard squeeze. You thought he might spank you - and you thought you might want him to - but his fingers slipped between your legs and easily pressed past your dripping entrance.

It was only two fingers, but your walls hugged them tightly. You felt so full, and each in-and-out pulse threatened to distract you from the pleasure you were supposed to be delivering. It really wasn’t fair how easily he could occupy your whole mind, direct your thoughts exactly where he wanted them. You couldn’t let him get away with that.

Releasing him from your mouth for only a moment, you peek up at him and say, “Think you’re clever, hm?”

Hongseok bit down on his bottom lip as he eyed you. “I’m just addicted.”

“To my pussy?”

“To you.”

Your heart stuttered. “Me?”

He hummed, fingers slowing as he looked at you sweetly. “How you smell, how you taste, how you feel… all of your reactions when I touch you.”

At that, you couldn’t help but smile. That was exactly how you felt about him. “How are you so perfect?”

Hongseok brushed your hair back, sounding entirely genuine as he responded, “You’re one to talk.”

You smirked and tried to remain cool. It was all so surreal - the girth of him in your hand, the pumping of his fingers inside of you, the sweet honey in his gaze. How unbelievably lucky you were.

Enthusiastically, you wrapped your lips around his throbbing cock. You were going to take very good care of this angel of a man you somehow managed to get your hands on. You sucked harder, bobbed your head faster, trying to get his heart racing.

Sure enough, his fingers stalled within you as he groaned. He pushed your hair off to the side for a better view, murmuring your name as he watched. “Fuck, _____… that’s… so fucking good…”

It thrilled you to know that you could overpower him, if only for a moment. That the pleasure you gave him could actually overwhelm him to the point that he could only sit back and watch. Even if it didn’t last long.

The fingers inside of you were soon replaced by Hongseok’s thumb, and his fingers found a new purpose. They skillfully targeted your clit, and the tight circling motion pulled the air from your lungs in a sharp moan, forcing you to release his cock in order to breathe. He powerfully took control, rushing you headfirst towards another orgasm. Halfheartedly, you gripped his cock in your hand, but there was nothing more you could do.

You completely shattered under his touch, succumbing to pleasure as electric waves rushed through you. His name fell from your lips in a desperate plea as you chased the edges of your orgasm, body tensing deliciously with every last pulse.

Hongseok watched warmly as you dissolved into a quivering mess, flushed to your fingertips with the heat of your climax. He lifted your gaze with a knuckle under your chin, and you swore your heart skipped a beat when you met his eyes.

“____,” Hongseok spoke your name so beautifully that you nearly teared up. “You are incredible.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, and you moved further up the bed as one. You reclined among the pillows as Hongseok hovered over you.

“You’re so sensitive.” His fingers caressed your neck, and his hand drifted down over your breasts and torso, making you hum pleasantly. “And all of your little noises…”

Hongseok kissed you again, tongue slipping past your lips. Arching your back, you craved the feeling of his chest against yours - but he would not come near. He just continued to tease, his rough fingers exploring your skin.

“I want…” he spoke slowly against your lips. “…to hear every little sound you make.” He squeezed your nipple between his fingers, causing you to gasp pleasurably. “Christ, that’s perfect.”

You nipped at his bottom lip, getting impatient. “I want to feel all of you inside me. See what kind of noises I’ll make then.”

His eyes flashed as he released you, holding up a finger as if to say wait. Faster than he had moved all night, he hopped from the bed and dug through his bag, returning to the bed with a condom packet in hand.

“Oh,” you giggled, suddenly remembering through your wine-fogged mind the importance of protection. “I forgot about that.”

“Thankfully I’m just sober enough to remember,” Hongseok smiled at you sweetly as he rolled the condom on. And then he was back on top of you, but this time your hips met. His length nestled between your folds as he started grinding slowly against you, dragging himself through your slick arousal and pressing into your clit with each thrust.

You spread your fingers through his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss, moaning against his mouth from the friction of his cock.

“_____,” Hongseok groaned, pressing harder against you, his breath hot on your cheek. “I want to be inside you.”

You gasped desperately for air as you begged, “Yes, please, I want it! Please, I want- oh my  _god_ …”

He angled his hips, and suddenly his cock was pressing past your entrance, stretching you wide as you took all of him in. You could practically feel him all the way up in your stomach and it was absolutely  _delicious_.

“Jesus,  _fuck_  you’re so big,” you panted, eyes pinching shut as you tried to relax your walls around him.

“Are you okay?” He started to pull back, a touch of concern in his voice.

“Yes, no, I’m great, you feel amazing, it’s so-  _oh_!”

He thrusted into you, burying himself deep. Nuzzling into your neck, his teeth grazed your skin and his hips started up at a sensual pace. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You couldn’t find words to respond - every single one of your brain cells was preoccupied by how absolutely  _incredible_  his cock felt as he screwed you. So you just moaned gratefully, well aware of the pleasure that sound alone would bring him.

The small hotel room was filled with the symphony of your breathy moans mixing with his, the murmuring of your names on each others’ lips, and the slick sound of his undulating hips drilling into you. You could barely hear the music playing in the background, far too focused on the sinful stretch of your pussy.

Hongseok hastily snapped into you, lips pressing sloppy kisses to your neck and shoulder. Every sensation left you dizzy, and you knew beyond any shred of doubt that you had made the right choice in coming to his room. Your body had never felt so alive.

Flames crackled under your skin as he slowly chipped away at your remaining sanity. And when he bit into the skin under your jaw, you clenched tightly around him, short nails digging into his back.

“Oh  _fuck_ …” The words shuddered out from Hongseok, and his thrusting slowed. “How are you so tight?”

You released him, and then clenched down again, this time with purpose.

He made a slightly strangled sound before chuckling darkly and lifting up from you, meeting your eyes. “If you keep that up, I’m going to have to absolutely ruin you, sweetheart.”

Your skin burned at the pet name. No one had ever called you that before. It sent a wave of something seductively hot through you, and you knew what you had to do. You lifted an eyebrow just barely as you bore down on him with all your might, challenging him. “Do your worst.”

Hongseok’s expression darkened, as though he didn’t appreciate your teasing. But before you could think to take it back, he crashed his lips into yours and rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him.

He was absolutely ruthless as he pounded up into you, gripping your hips tightly and biting down on your lower lip. The pleasure that ripped through your body was nothing short of all-consuming, and you whimpered pathetically when one of his hands dared to slip between your bodies in search of your clit. His movements were rushed, sloppy, yet it still managed to send you racing toward the edge of another orgasm.

You gasped weakly, unable to return his kisses as he fucked you senseless, increasingly strung-out and hyper-sensitive with every swipe of his fingers. And when his other hand pinched fiercely at your nipple, you knew you were done for.

“How’s it feel, sweetheart?” Hongseok’s heavy lidded gaze lingered on your lips, silky voice touched with a growl.

“So… so good…” You managed to mumble. Your pulse pounded deafeningly in your ears. “Soo- _ooooh Christ_ , Hongseok!”

He twisted your nipple roughly, painfully, and it was unbearably pleasurable. Your brow knitted as you felt yourself hurtling towards the finish line, and he twisted it again, this time rolling your clit between two fingers and tugging.

Ecstasy blossomed through your veins like wildfire as you shattered, your cries surely loud enough to wake anyone sleeping in the next room over. Never in your life had you felt anything so powerful, so blissful, so fucking incredible. You trembled wickedly, riding out each wave.

As you calmed, you met Hongseok’s eyes, and you almost didn’t comprehend his words when he said, “You’re beautiful.”

Your whole brain had gone to mush, and you could do nothing but smile down at him like a fool. Exhausted, you collapsed on top of him.

Hongseok caressed your back, his breath warm on your ear. “We can stop if you want. You must be worn out and hyper-sensitive by now.” But his cock remained hard inside of you, and that was all the encouragement you needed to keep going, sensitivity be damned.

Words started coming back to you, and you propped yourself up on your elbows. “No. I want to make you come, too.”

“Don’t push yourself.”

“I’m okay.” You smiled, and it was the truth. The only thing you were concerned about at that point was his pleasure. “Promise.”

With that, you rolled your hips, savoring the way Hongseok’s brow pinched with pleasure. He looked so damn sexy beneath you, his chest glistening with sweat and his lips parted. You wished you could take a picture of him just like that and hold onto that moment forever.

Sitting up, you started bouncing on top of him, absolutely loving the friction of his cock sliding in and out of you. Faintly, you wondered how it might feel without the condom, but you weren’t drunk enough to ask him to take it off.

“That’s perfect, just like that.” Hongseok encouraged you, his hands traveling up to your breasts. He toyed with your nipples as you rode him, and you whimpered playfully. “Shit, I love that.”

You murmured his name, and you could tell he was close. The muscles of his abdomen visibly contracted over and over, and his hands settled on your hips to help you keep your pace. Your legs were growing tired from repeatedly lifting and dropping, but you didn’t let that stop you from chasing his climax.

“_____,” his eyes pinched shut, his voice breathy as he warned you, “I’m gonna come…”

“Do it,” you cooed. “Come for me, Hongseok.”

At your command, he moaned beautifully and reached his high, hands gripping your hips tightly as he spilled into the condom. You would never forget the gorgeous way his brow creased and his lips fell open in ecstasy. There wasn’t a sight more beautiful than that.

Eventually you climbed off of him, your body completely spent and remarkably empty without him filling you up. You collapsed onto the bed next to him, lazily throwing an arm over his torso.

“That was… incredible.” You sighed blissfully, and he smiled sweetly at you.

“Incredible,” he echoed, wincing as he pulled off the condom. He tied it off and tossed it onto the bedside table before rolling onto his side, facing you. “You are so gorgeous that I might actually believe in love at first sight.”

You laughed in surprise at his unexpectedly sweet words. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Maybe a little too much.” He chuckled, shrugging.

“Me, too.” You confessed, inhibitions definitely still fuzzy. “Let’s be drunk and in love, then.”

“Deal.”

Hongseok pulled you tightly against him as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, which you powerfully reciprocated. This man, who you knew absolutely nothing about and you would never see again after tonight, somehow made you feel so special.  He kissed you until your lips felt raw, until the heart pounding fiercely in your chest was so, so full.

And then, it was time to leave.

You knew that night couldn’t last forever. The longer you stayed, the more the magic would wear off and the more sober you’d get. And if you were sober, that meant you’d also be awkward, and you’d end up screwing everything up. It was better to just keep everything as perfect as it was and get out before things got weird.

You excused yourself to use the restroom, taking your dress in with you. You cleaned yourself up, put on your clothes, and prepared yourself to leave. When you came out into the bedroom again, Hongseok was still shirtless, but he wore a pair of low-hanging grey joggers that showed off that torturously delicious V between his hips.

“Heading out?” Hongseok stood on the opposite side of the room, tying off the waistband of his joggers.

You couldn’t tell by his tone if he was disappointed or just making conversation. Maybe the alcohol was finally wearing off, because you suddenly started to feel self-conscious. “Yeah, I better get going. But I had fun.”

“Glad to hear it,” he grabbed something small off of his desk as he approached you, a smirk on his face. It would honestly be so easy for him to convince you to stay if he wanted to. “So did I.”

He pulled you in for a short kiss, and you savored every brief second of it.

When you parted, he took your hand in his, placing the boutonniere from his suit jacket into your palm. You looked up at him curiously, and he winked. “A little something to remember me by.”

You smiled, clutching the flowers. “How thoughtful.”

“How are you getting home? Are you okay to drive?”

“Oh, I’m actually staying here tonight with my cousin.” You wondered briefly if you should have just pretended like you were actually leaving the building, but then decided there was no point in lying. “I should probably make sure she hasn’t gone to town on the minibar.”

“Good call.” He chuckled, picking up your shoes and walking you towards the door. “I’m really glad you stopped by, _____.”

“Me too, Hongseok.” You pressed one last kiss to his lips and murmured a faint goodbye, and then you were on the other side of the door and it was all over.

You didn’t regret a single thing.

* * *

“I’m gonna run down to the convenience store for some chips and sour Skittles. Do you need anything?” Your roommate, Nailah, peeks her head into your shared bedroom. You’re perched by the window, looking out on the city and trying to gather the inspiration and motivation required to do your homework.

Now that she’s brought it to your attention, you realize you  _are_  actually getting the munchies. Regardless, you raise a critical eyebrow. “You’re going to spoil our dinner.”

“Oh come on, you know we both have bottomless stomachs.” She rolls her eyes, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her bomber jacket.

You laugh - she’s definitely right about that. Conceding, you ask her, “Could you grab me some Pop Tarts? Like, brown sugar or cookie dough or something. Literally anything that’s not a fruit flavor.”

“No prob,” she salutes you. “Be back in a few.”

“Thanks, roomie!” You call after her when she disappears, and then your ringing phone captures your attention. You retrieve it from your bed and swipe to answer, even though you don’t recognize the unfamiliar number on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling on behalf of the Lake Shore Music Department reception. May I speak with _____?”

“Hi, yes, I’m _____.”

“Great. I found your note, and I was able to get my hands on those copies you wanted. They’re here for you whenever you’re available to come pick them up.”

You stand up a little straighter. You had forgotten about the excuse cards you requested last week! “Awesome! I’ll be right there. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

Hanging up, you grabbed your jacket and slipped on some shoes. It was time to stick it to a certain Professor Asswipe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.
> 
> Warnings | Cursing. Masturbation. Underage drinking. Mentions of smoking. Sexist assholes. Poor choices.

You make it to the music building in record time, smoothly flashing your student ID and dashing up the stairs to the office. A somewhat familiar face sits behind the reception desk, but you can’t quite place him. He’s got dark hair that rests on his forehead, a thin nose, and a friendly smile.

“Hello, how can I help you?” He greets you as you beeline for the desk. You recognize his voice as the one you heard over the phone.

“Hi, I think you just called me? I’m _____.” You throw on a grateful smile. “I asked for those excuse card copies.”

“Ah! Right.” He picks a few papers off of his desk and holds them out to you. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much.” You eagerly take the papers, gushing. “You have no idea how much this is going to help me.”

He laughs quietly. “Why do you need them so badly, if you don’t mind me asking? Your note sounded pretty urgent.”

You remember scribbling a note to him that may or may not have been laced with a few choice words. “Oh, sorry about my language.”

“No worries.”

“I’ve just got a professor who’s trying to make an issue of the fact that I missed a bunch of convocations last year. You know how they get.” You try to keep your explanation as vague as possible to avoid incriminating Professor Yang or yourself. Avoiding eye contact, you casually flip through the photocopies, frowning a little as they remind you exactly why you had to go home so frequently.

“Understood. Convocations are kind of a big deal. I’m glad that those copies will help.” His smile turned into a bit of a frown. “I’m sorry it took so long. They weren’t particularly easy to get access to.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You wave your hand dismissively. Sure, it had taken a little over a week (and that had resulted in you being quietly grudge-y in the back of the Physics classroom yesterday morning), but you have all of your evidence right here in your hands now. “I really appreciate you digging them up for me.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” The boy nods at you once and when he turns to his computer, you suddenly recognize his profile.

“Oh my God! Jazz band!”

His brow furrows and he laughs awkwardly. “Um, what?”

You shake your head to get your thoughts straight. “Sorry, I just realized why you look familiar. You’re the jazz band pianist!”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s me.”

A huge smile creeps across your face. You have so much admiration for the man sitting in front of you now, and you feel like an idiot for acting, well, like an idiot. “You’re such an amazing jazz pianist. It just, you’re just so good! You guys killed it at the first convocation.”

“Thank you! That really means a lot.” He easily accepts your compliment, as if he were used to being gushed over. But he doesn’t seem to be a dick about it - he’s just confident.

You explain yourself: “I play piano, too. I want to make it into jazz band next year, so I’m working really hard this year.” Why did you need to tell him that? He probably doesn’t care what a lowly sophomore like yourself dreams about.

He keeps a smile and a good attitude about it. “Ah. You know, there’s going to be a lot of competition for that seat.”

“Trust me, I know.” You’re sure that you’re far from being the best jazz pianist in the music department, but you try to stay positive. You’re at least good enough to be in the running. So why couldn’t you be the one to get the seat?

And then the pianist makes you an offer you absolutely can’t refuse: “Would you be interested in sitting in on a jazz band rehearsal sometime? I can chat with the director. I’m sure she’d let you.”

A rush of adrenaline bursts through your veins. “Really? Oh my gosh, that would be amazing. I would absolutely love that.”

“Awesome.” He smiles sweetly. “Can I save the phone number from your note? So I can get in touch with you.”

“Yes, of course. Please.” You nod a little too fervidly.

“Cool.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Changgu. It’s nice to meet you, _____.”

You shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Changgu.”

* * *

You feel surprisingly light as you make your way down the hall to Professor Yang’s office, but only because you’re now backed with proof of your innocence in the matter. Not that any of it is really that important, anyway, but you just need him to know that it was not intentional.

Well, that and the fact that you may or may not get to attend a jazz band practice. With  _Changgu_ , of all people. He’s everything you want to be - in a music sense, at least. You don’t really know much else about him. But hey, maybe you’d have the chance to get to know him a bit.

As Professor Yang’s office comes into sight, your smile fades and your steps falter. The music softly floating through the closed door catches you off guard - the sound of funk guitars and raw vocals.

It’s not just any music he’s listening to.

_“Tell me something good…”_

You freeze.

_“Tell me that you love me, yeah…”_

He is listening to the song you sang to him in the hotel that night. The song you specifically chose to set the mood. The song that, as far as you are aware, he had no knowledge of before you played it for him.

You remember coyly dancing and singing, remember the lustful look in his eyes as his gaze traveled down your swaying body. You remember the heat of his lips and the clutch of his hands - and suddenly you’re neck-deep in filthy thoughts of him.

Even worse, you can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling all of those things right now, as he’s listening to the one song that truly tethers you together.

Leaning against the wall, you try to take a deep breath and calm yourself. Your mind is racing and your heart is beating way too fast. Should you even go in there? Maybe you should just come back some other time. What would he say if you walked in on him like this?

…and then you smile the most  _mischievous_  of smiles.

What  _would_  he say, exactly, if you caught him listening to a song that  _had_  to remind him of you? Mr. Not-At-All-Affected-By-You couldn’t act all high and mighty anymore, could he?

Now  _that_  is something you’d like to witness.

Professor Yang has to still be attracted to you, at the very least. You don’t necessarily want to encourage that emotion by bursting in and making him face his feelings, but it’s all part of proving your point - that this situation wasn’t a scheme of yours, and that you’re not the only one to blame.

Taking just a moment to compose yourself, you let your lips settle into a line and you knock calmly.

The music grows quiet and Professor Yang calls out, “Come in.”

Boy is it a struggle to keep your neutral expression as you open that damned door.

And it’s even harder to stay neutral when he very visibly reacts to the fact that it is you of all people entering the room.

His eyes widen for a moment as recognition flashes across his face, and then he immediately scrambles to turn off the music completely. But you both know it’s too late for him to pretend like he wasn’t just blasting your sex music, and the acoustic guitar in his lap tells you that he was possibly even playing along.

Smugly, you say, “Good song, huh?”

Professor Yang purses his lips, not amused. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, actually.” You approach him coolly, placing your excuse cards calmly on his desk. “I brought these for you.”

He picks one up and eyes it as you take a seat across from him. “And why do I need these?”

“Because, Professor, if you’ll remember, you blatantly accused me of intentionally getting us into this mess. So now I’m back to clear my name. Clearly I was not at any convocations last semester, so I didn’t even know you existed until I saw you at the wedding.”

Rolling his eyes, he stands and places his guitar back on its stand. “Congratulations, you’ve officially taken this way further than it needed to be taken.”

“Hongseok, I’m serious. I didn’t do this to you.”

He prickles, his fox eyes pinching shut. “It’s Professor Yang.”

“Professor Yang, sorry.” It’s an honest mistake, the way his name so naturally slips past your defenses, and you hope it doesn’t set you back on your mission to reach a neutral ground with him. “I just need you to believe me.”

He picks up the cards and sits on the edge of his desk as he examines them. “You really want me to go through and match all of these dates up with the convocation dates?”

You scoff. “Obviously you don’t have to do that. The cards all specifically say that I was missing a convocation, and you can see the department head’s signature on it and everything. See?” You stand, pointing over his shoulder at the scrawled signature. You suppose that it doesn’t really look like more than a squiggle, so it could be argued that you had done it yourself, but you’ll fight as many battles as you need to. You’re going to get him to acknowledge you.

Professor Yang’s thumb swipes over the page as he reads one, then another, and another, putting the pieces together and learning the unfortunate reason why you so frequently returned home. His voice is quiet, soft, when he finally asks, “How is your family?”

Your mouth dries up. “Better. My father is in remission now.”

All of the weekends you had to go home, you were going to see your father. His stage three lung cancer made it so that you could never be sure how long he would be around. Any of those visits could have been your last. By the grace of something holy, his treatments had been successful. Hopefully it would stay that way.

Professor Yang takes a slow breath, and you can feel empathy pouring from him. “I’m glad to hear it. And I’m sorry you and your family had to go through that. Cancer is awful.” He looks down at you, his gaze warm and sincere.

As you lock eyes, you suddenly realize how close he is. You feel the heat radiating off of him, smell the familiar cologne lingering on his collar - bergamot and cardamom. Your heart pulses with desire and your throat tightens, as if he were a living, breathing aphrodisiac.

If he feels anything similar, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he just takes a step away from you, returning to the safe space behind his desk. You also step back, bumping gently into your chair and absolutely hating the way he turns you into a bumbling mess.

Professor Yang is much more considerate with your excuse card copies now, tucking them carefully away in his desk drawer. He clears his throat once and takes a seat. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You sit, too. Sure, he had acknowledged (sort of) that the excuse cards are real. But you need him to verbalize your innocence. “Do you believe me now?”

He dismisses your question and repeats himself, a little less gentle this time. “Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, an apology.” You really shouldn’t be surprised. Of course he wouldn’t give in easily. “I’ll even settle for you admitting that you believe me when I say I had no idea who you were when we met.”

Professor Yang rolls his eyes in a rather childish manner, but damn it if there isn’t something hot about his irritation. “Fine. I believe you. Is that all?”

You know you shouldn’t ask; you shouldn’t string those words into an audible question. But, naive little thing you are, you do. “Why were you listening to that song?”

“It’s a good song,” he calmly answers, still looking away from you. You can sense that there’s certainly more to it than that, but you do believe that he does genuinely like the song.

“It is,” you murmur. You should really stop and leave it at that, but you can’t stand to let the air between you grow quiet. So you press on. “And you’re learning to play it?”

“Yes.”

Stop. Leave it there.

“What do you usually play on guitar? I know you’re not really into funk that much.” Your mouth runs all on its own.

Professor Yang doesn’t verbally respond - he just stares at you with a warning deep in his eyes.

But you can’t stop. Your anxious blabbermouth has taken hold and is making you ramble. “You like rock, right? I think you told me that, you know, when we-”

“Stop. Please, just stop.” Professor Yang cuts you off, shutting you up more effectively than your own brain could. “Don’t try to talk to me about that night. I don’t want to have that conversation.”

You blush hard, embarrassed by the foolish route your mouth had taken you. “Okay, then let’s just talk about music. Who do you like?”

“I don’t want to talk about that, either. I don’t want to talk about anything with you, _____.” His gaze hardens. “I think it’s best that we don’t have any sort of relationship outside of the classroom.”

“Even small talk is off the table? It’s just a simple question.”

“ _Nothing_  is simple with you. If this were simple, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Answer the question and I’ll leave.” It’s a stupid bargain. It’s all so stupid. But at this point you feel like you have to make this conversation go somewhere, simply to save yourself from your embarrassment.

He purses his lips, considering whether he should give into you or not. Eventually he says, “Van Halen. Pink Floyd. The Rolling Stones. AC/DC.”

You nod stiffly, but you’re pleased that he responded at all. “Any Aerosmith?”

“Some of their early stuff.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I think that’s enough questions.”

You keep blabbing, almost like you don’t really want to leave. “You know, I went through an Aerosmith phase when I was a kid. Found my dad’s records and thought it was the best thing in the world.”

“Can we please be done here? I would like for you to leave.”

As you stand from your seat, you can’t help but feel the urge to lift some of the tension with humor, embarrassing though it may be. In an awkward imitation of Steven Tyler, you sing some of the lyrics from one of the most well-known Aerosmith songs - and of course, you throw in just a touch of air guitar.  _“Sing for me, sing for the years / Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears…”_

And then, it all pays off as Professor Yang very visibly struggles to hold back a smile. He shakes his head, trying to regain his composure, but his voice is light as he says, “Nope. Get out.”

You start backing towards the door, but you keep up your act and go all-out for the biggest part of the song.  _“Dream on! Dream on! Dream on!”_

“Oh my God,” he laughs, unable to hold it in anymore. He stands, chasing you out. “Get out of here! Go!”

As you hurry out the door, you jump up two octaves so you’re practically squealing,  _“Dream on! Dream on!”_

All you get in response is a loud  _NO_  as he closes the door on you, but you still giggle. It’s so relieving to see him not pissed at you for once.

You smile to yourself. Absolutely worth it.

* * *

“I’ve got a quick question for ya. Maybe two, depending on your answer to the first.” Nailah hands you another freshly-cleaned dish to dry before dunking her hands back into the sink. **  
**

She is a fabulous cook and always makes sure to make enough dinner for both of you - as long as you help with cleanup and grocery shopping. You’ve offered multiple times to handle the cleanup entirely on your own, since the current arrangement still isn’t fair. But Nailah always insists that she can’t let you do it all by yourself.

“Sure, what is it?” You towel dry the mixing bowl and tuck it into a cabinet just in time to grab a clean plate from her.

“Are you friends with any Music Comp students?”

“Yeah, I know a few.”

“Do any of them have an interest in film scoring?”

You realize why she’s asking. “You need some music for a film?”

“Mhm.” She hums, scrubbing roughly at the cutting board in her hand.

“What’s this one about?”

“Well it’s not exactly a  _whole_  film, it’s just a scene for my directing class. The overall story is about a young woman who’s struggling to deal with the trauma of her past, and how that’s affecting her self-image as a queer woman.” Nailah rinses the cutting board and hands it off to you, looking dramatically off into the distance as she explains the story. “In this scene, she’s torn. She wants -  _craves_  - physical intimacy with her love interest, but she’s riddled with the guilt and shame that’s been instilled in her since she was a child.”

“That sounds exactly like something you would make.” You smile and dry off her hands, now that she’s done washing.

“Well, I am me.”

Nailah has always been open about her queerness since you met her last year. The day that you moved in, she was completely honest with you about her preferences and assured you that she wouldn’t hit on you or make you uncomfortable - she must have assumed that you might be bigoted, seeing as how you’re from such a small town. But believe it or not, you’re actually a decent human being who doesn’t give two shits about whether or not your roommate is lesbian.

Honestly, the weirdest part about your living arrangement is the age difference between you. Normally freshmen wouldn’t be assigned a room with a sophomore, but that’s how it worked out. Regardless of your ages, the two of you immediately struck up a friendship; you couldn’t have asked for a better roommate.

She squeezes your hands as a thank-you and takes off towards her desk, releasing her braids from the bun atop her head. “You didn’t answer my question, by the way.”

Right! You think for only a second, and a name immediately comes to mind. “You remember my friend Shinhye, right? She came over once or twice last semester.”

Nailah nods, stashing some supplies into her backpack and preparing to head out for class. “She’s in comp?”

“Yeah, and she’s really good. I don’t know if she’s ever done film stuff before, but I can ask.”

She shakes her head curtly. “I’ll ask. It’s more professional that way. Can I get her number from you?”

“Of course.” You get your phone out to read off Shinhye’s number (does anyone memorize phone numbers anymore?), and Nailah saves the contact info.

“You’re the best.” She pulls on her bomber jacket and slips into her combat boots. No matter how casually she dresses, she always manages to look fashionable. You may or may not be a little jealous of her look from time to time.

“You’ve got that right.”

Nailah snorts, rolling her eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun!” You call after her, and you hear the door close as she exits for her night class.

You take it upon yourself to tidy up the kitchen area a little more, wiping down the stove and limited counter space. The kitchen is pretty small (you were still technically in a dorm apartment, after all), but you are lucky to have an apartment-style dorm in the first place. It is the perfect little space for you and Nailah, and you love the view you got every evening at sunset.

As you finish your cleaning, you feel your phone buzz multiple times in your pocket - it’s a series of texts from your cousin, Minseo.

Minseo, 6:54pm: Jiyoo finally put the wedding photos up on social, check it out!  
Minseo, 6:54pm: Honestly we looked so good.  
Minseo, 6:55pm: And so did your groomsman ;D  
Minseo, 6:55pm: How’s that going btw??

You groan. The last thing you need is to see him in that tux again, to see him on the exact night you stripped each other naked and screwed each other senseless. It’s a terrible idea to look at those photos and relive the night all over again.

But… despite your better judgment, you pop open your laptop and resign yourself to the bittersweet memories.

There are multiple photos that you don’t even remember taking during the reception, including one of you with the bride, her luxurious bouquet in your hand. But as much as you want to linger and admire your makeup and dress, your heart wants something else.

Hongseok shines brighter than anyone in the wedding party photos, his gorgeous smile drawing your eyes right to him. He looks just as handsome as you remember, with those sharp eyes and plush lips. And  _damn_  that tux fits him just right.

Your mind is filled with memories of that night, and you can’t help but notice the low burn of desire deep within you. You desperately needed to feel that good again… and Nailah just left for class, so you have the room to yourself for a while…

You slip into your shared bedroom and close the door (just in case). Luxuriously, you lay yourself back onto your bed, fingers sliding up beneath your shirt to cup your breasts as you remember his touch.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that you really shouldn’t be enabling your lustful attraction by masturbating to the thought of him, but at the forefront of your mind you honestly don’t care. A little fantasy never hurt anybody.

All you can think about is the warm press of his lips and the sheer strength of him - and the way he made love to you like nobody ever has. He filled you perfectly, and you long to feel the stretch of his cock in you again.

Hastily, you kick off your jeans and shove your panties down your hips, pleased to find your folds already slick with arousal. Just the mere thought of him has you so worked up - you can hardly stand the pure  _want_  that you feel, like he is a drug you’re addicted to.

You let your hands and your mind wander, your fingers rediscovering every curve and fold of your body, your thoughts drifting into dangerous territory as you fantasized…

What would the look on his face be if you dared to wear a sheer shirt to class one day?

Or better yet, if you conveniently forgot to slip on a bra?

He’d be furious of course, because it’s simply not fair for you to be looking so deliciously sexy when you both know he can’t do anything about it.

Maybe he  _would_  do something about it.

And what would he do if you burst into his office with no panties under your dress, just like that night? Your arousal dripping down your legs, the scent of your sex filling the small room and driving him to madness.

Maybe he’d do something about it then, too.

You would never,  _never_ , do any of those things. You’re not that kind of girl; you don’t flirt with - or seduce - your teachers. The consequences are much too great.

But… what if?

This is the only time you let yourself really consider the outcomes of those fantasies, the only time you can truly indulge in the pleasure you get just from looking at him.

You’re absolutely overcome with need for him as your fingers dive into your slit, curling against your favorite spot. The only thing you want is to feel his rough fingers instead of your own, to wrap your mouth around the girth of his cock and hear him fucking  _moan_.

You whimper softly as your fingers ravage your hole, your thoughts geared solely on the mental image of him shirtless and glowing with sweat. You want to lick each drop off of him, want to bite his gorgeously soft lips, want to ride him so good that he can’t help but fill you with his cum.

It’s so easy to remember the way his hair fell in his face as he pounded into you, the intensity with which his eyes pierced yours with each thrust. God, he is the sexiest man to ever exist and the memory of screwing him pushes you over the edge.

Frighteningly fast, you reach your climax. Your chest tightens and warms as you explode with pleasure, wetness spurting forcefully past your fingers. For a moment, you imagine that it might be his hot, sticky cum dripping out of you, his seed coating your walls and making you feel beautifully filthy.

As your orgasm plays out, you lay there in ecstasy - but it’s bittersweet. Melancholic, even. Because you know you’ll never be able to experience it for real ever again.

And then the fog lifts.

The ecstasy fades, and you realize that you were just fantasizing about having unprotected sex with your teacher.

Not only had you fantasized about it, but you actually squirted as you thought about him.

…and damn, was it hot to think about him completely raw inside of you.

_You’re not that kind of girl._

And you really shouldn’t let yourself get carried away like that. Because if you know anything about yourself, it’s that if you allow yourself to consider something even a little bit, you may actually end up acting on it. That’s exactly how you got into this mess in the first place.

So this is the last time you’ll let yourself consider it.

After you take a moment to calm down and make peace with your decision, you roll up your dirty sheets and take a quick shower. Once you’ve taken your sheets downstairs to the laundry room, you call Shinhye, looking for a distraction.

“Yello?” Shinhye answers almost right away.

“Hey. What are you up to this weekend?”

“Procrastinating, probably. Why, you got something planned?”

“We should find a party. I feel like I want to get slammed.”

Shinhye doesn’t respond immediately. “Is Nailah coming?”

“I haven’t said anything to her. Why?”

“She seems cool. You should bring her.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You chuckle, remembering that Nailah called her earlier. “So start scouring campus for parties and let’s get  _wasted_.”

* * *

“Hey, short stuff.” **  
**

You look up from your notes as Wooseok enters the practice room, only a few minutes late to your tutoring session. He was late last week, too. But you’re not the type to hold it against him, though, so you just shoot him a smile. “Hey.”

His hair is parted off to the side today, and it really suits him. He shrugs off his jean jacket and pulls up a seat across from you. “Those flashcards we worked on last week have been super helpful. But honestly, I’m still pretty slow at identifying the pitches.”

“That’s okay. It takes time.” You reassure him. “You’ll get it.”

After meeting with him for the first tutoring session last week, you discovered that he’s a surprisingly good pupil. He picks up on the concepts quickly, but the real issue is that he has trouble with retention. Hence, the flashcard and memorization exercises.

You spend the next forty minutes or so going over his theory homework and reviewing chord structures. Wooseok does well, but you can tell when he hits a wall and has to stop. The two of you call it quits and start packing up.

“Have you thought at all about how you’d like me to repay my debt to you?” He teases as he zips up his backpack. The smirk on his lips is so casual. What a natural flirt he is.

You ignore the suggestive look he’s giving you - you’re positive he’s just joking around. But he’s right, he does owe you since you’ve been helping him. You haven’t given it much thought, though. “I haven’t come up with anything yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Whatever you want,” Wooseok shoots a wink your way, and you laugh.

“Stop that! It’s not going to be like that, so calm yourself.”

He chuckles and pulls on his jean jacket, picking up his backpack and returning his chair to its original place in the room. “Suit yourself, little lady.”

Little lady? Short stuff? Where are all of these nicknames coming from? “You know I’m not actually that small. You’re just a giant.”

“I’m not actually that tall, you’re just bitty.” Wooseok playfully mocks you.

“Wow, I never thought of that,” you respond, sarcasm dripping from your words.

“And she’s got sass, too!” With an easy smile, he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for you. You respond childishly by sticking your tongue out at him, which earns you a bout of his bright laughter.

Once you’ve got your things together, you both head out. You don’t have too far to go, though, since your piano lesson is in about fifteen minutes. Wooseok walks down the hall with you.

“Any plans this weekend?” He asks, making small talk.

“Nothing set yet. You?”

“Just the usual, I guess. My roommate and I are throwing a party tomorrow night, so I’m guessing we’ll spend the rest of the weekend recovering.”

“You’re having a party?” His plans immediately catch your attention - and you knew exactly how to get your friends and yourself invited. “Okay, I think I know what I want as repayment.”

“Yeah?”

“My friends and I are looking for a party, so you should let us come over.” You shoot him your most charming smile.

“Totally. I’ll text you the details.” He splits off in the direction of the stairs. “But you don’t have to waste your repayment on that. You’re invited for free. So think of something better.” With that, he disappears down the steps.

Something better? You don’t know what that’ll be, but for now you’re just pleased that you found a party. You’ll settle his debt later.

* * *

After you and Kino get out of Aural Skills II on Friday morning (you will forever hold a grudge for the class, since it’s basically the only one in the whole school that meets on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday), the two of you book a practice room to work on R&B Ensemble music. When you get to his solo, you notice that he likes to pace while he sings it. **  
**

“Do you think you’ll do some choreography for this song?” You ask him. “I mean, you  _are_  a dancer.”

He stretches his arms across his body one at a time and rolls his neck. “You know, I actually started choreographing some movements to the song just to see what I might want to do. Wanna see what I have so far?”

“Sure!” You answer excitedly. “I’ve never seen you dance before.”

“True, I guess you haven’t.”

“Do you want me to play for you?”

“Nah, I’ll pull it up on my phone so you can watch.” He picks his phone out of his pocket, and laughs to himself as he navigates to the music. “Although I have no doubt that you could play and watch me at the same time.”

“Maybe once I have the song memorized,” you chuckle.

Kino sets his phone on his music stand as it starts to play his Bruno song, and he dives right in. The movements are simple enough that he can effortlessly sing along, but they’re so precise that he really, truly looks like a professional. His footwork is sharp, and the way he pops his hips is very reminiscent of Bruno himself - but with a little Kino twist.

After the chorus, he stops and faces you with a shy smile. “That’s all I’ve got right now.”

“Kino, that was so cool!” You gushed, clapping elatedly. “You have to do that for the showcase. It’s perfect for the song.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you like it.” He beams, a little more confident now that you’ve boosted his ego. “Do you want to see more? That’s not the style of dance I usually do.”

“Absolutely.” You don’t even hesitate to answer. You’re so curious to see what else he has in store.

He chooses a different song to play - “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran. Almost immediately, you’re entranced by the way he dances. He’s  _really_  good, and the level of control over his movements is just insane.

It’s also kind of crazy to you how willing and comfortable he is to just drop everything and dance for you. The only time you feel comfortable dancing like that is after you’ve had a couple drinks. It’s really admirable.

He finishes his dance, and you start clapping for him again. “Did you choreograph that too?”

“Sort of. I just kind of made it up on the spot.”

“That’s absolutely insane. I had no idea how good you were!” You laugh. “I could never dance like that.”

“Sure you can.” Another song plays, and Kino gestures for you to get up. “Come on, I’ll show you a little something.”

He walks you through some cool footwork, and he’s so encouraging that you actually don’t feel awkward at all to be dancing in front of him. Even though you can tell that the movement doesn’t sit in your body as well as it does in his.

The next song to come on has a distinctly Latin vibe, and Kino reaches his hand out to you. “Alright, come on. You have to dance with me for this one.”

“But I don’t know how to dance to this music!”

“I’ve got you.” He smiles warmly as he takes your hand and pulls you toward him. He keeps some space between you so that you’re not flush up against him, and you both look down at your feet. “I’ll lead. So I’ll step forward with my left foot first, which means you have to step back with your right.”

You do as he instructs.

“Then you just step back together, one, two. Yeah, just like that. Then it’s your turn to step forward with your left - yes, exactly. Just a simple cha-cha.” You move together until you get the feet down.

“I’m too stiff,” you laugh, noticing the robotic way you move your feet.

“You have to loosen up your hips.” He lets go of your hand so both of his hands can secure themselves to your hip bones, and he does it so casually that you almost don’t notice the grip of his fingers. “So you just have to move your hips in time with your feet, like this.” He directs your hips from side to side. “Don’t fight it. Just feel the music.”

You hold tightly to his shoulders as he moves you, feeling unsteady under his hands. It isn’t until you look up at him that you realize how close he is. He meets your gaze, and like wildfire you see pink flood across his cheeks.

“Sorry.” Kino quickly releases you, taking a step back. “Dancers are just used to being manipulated like that, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by touching you like that.”

You blush, too, feeling awkward. “Oh, no, it’s totally fine. I mean, you were just showing me how to dance, it’s not like a big deal or anything.”

He lets out a short laugh, and it makes you smile. “Sorry,” he apologizes again. “I’m not always this weird, I promise.”

“You’re not being weird,” you reassure him. A moment of silence passes, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. You turn towards the piano. “Do you want to go back to practicing?”

He nods gratefully. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

As you resume your seat, you’re not sure what you’re feeling. Even though that was a somewhat intimate moment - and Kino is definitely a cutie - you can’t help but remember Professor Yang’s touch.

You’re such a lost cause.

* * *

You pick out your tightest jeans and a low-cut top for the party that night, and Nailah wears something similar. You don’t necessarily have the intention of meeting a guy tonight, but who knows. You could get drunk and hook up with someone, because that’s apparently what you do now. You’re just preparing yourself for that possibility.

You and Nailah meet Shinhye downstairs, and she’s wearing a ripped up pair of boyfriend jeans with a crop top - very nineties hip hop, but it suits her with her short hair and round glasses.

The three of you roll across the street to Plymouth and let yourselves upstairs. The security in this building isn’t as tight as your own, so it’s easy to slip into a throng of residents up to Wooseok’s room.

There must be at least fifteen other people in the room - which is a lot, considering that the apartment sized dorm room isn’t really that large.

It doesn’t take you long to spot Wooseok, since he towers over everyone there. He works his way towards you as you and the girls grab some drinks from the kitchen. You decide to start with vodka shots because you are NOT messing around tonight.

Wooseok throws himself around you in a gigantic bear hug, and you can smell the alcohol coming off of him. He slurs, “Shortie, you came!”

You laugh, giving him a pat on the back. “I told you I’d be here.”

He pulls away, a lazy smile on his face. “And you’re not so short today. Look at you bein’ all tall and stuff for once.”

“Yeah, heels will do that.” You giggle, showing off your three-inch footwear. “Wooseok, these are my friends, Shinhye and Nailah.”

He waves cockily. “What’s up, ladies.”

“This is Wooseok, my drummer friend.”

“Thanks for having us over!” Shinhye, your ever polite friend chimes.

“Of course, of course,” Wooseok brushes her off. “You girls get some drinks and get to dancing, okay?”

“Amen!” You reach for some more vodka, mixing yourself a screwdriver this time. Once Nailah and Shinhye have their own beverages of choice, you make your way into the living room to dance.

The music is probably louder than it should be, and it’s house music that you typically wouldn’t listen to, but honestly you don’t really care. You just want to get lost tonight. Besides, Shinhye and Nailah are having a good time dancing, so you have fun dancing with them too.

The three of you get lost in the booze and the music, and it’s exactly the distraction you needed. Just a fun night with the girls.

After a while, Nailah leans in closer to both of you and shouts over the music, “I’m gonna head downstairs for a smoke.”

“I’ll come with you!” Shinhye smiles at her. You know Shinhye doesn’t smoke, but whatever.

“I’m gonna stay here and get some more to drink.” You pat them both on the shoulders. “Don’t get lost out there.”

“We’ll be fiiiiine,” Shinhye drawls.

Nailah takes Shinhye’s arm. “We’ll be back in a few, okay?”

You just nod as they walk off, and then you make your way to the kitchen for another drink. There’s a group standing around in the kitchen all getting ready to do shots, and you join them, tossing back two more and mixing up another screwdriver for yourself. You’re certainly feeling the alcohol at this point, and you move back into the living room because the music is just  _calling_  you.

As you dance, you suddenly feel the warmth of someone behind you. Their hands come to rest on your hips, and you drunkenly look back to find an unfamiliar face. You stop moving, not really wanting to dance with this guy.

“Do I know you?” You ask, sass dripping from your voice.

“No, but you can get to know me if you want.” He pulls you tightly against him, grinding lewdly against you.

You cringe, trying to pull away from him. “I don’t want to.”

“Oh, come on. Just have a little fun.” His mouth is too close to your ear, and his grip is too strong. You can feel his hardness against your ass, and you absolutely hate it.

“No!” You protest, struggling. “Get off of me!”

Another voice speaks up. “You heard her. Leave her alone.”

You look up, simultaneously relieved and surprised to see who came to your rescue. “Yuto,” you breathe.

Still, the guy won’t let go of you. “Is she with you?”

Yuto doesn’t hesitate to lie for your sake. “She is, so I suggest you back the fuck off.”

Finally, the filthy hands release you. “You should keep a closer eye on your girl, man. She’s just asking for trouble.”

You turn around and spit at him. “I’m just enjoying myself, you perv! Sexist asshole!”

Yuto puts an arm around you, possibly to hold you back or maybe just to keep you from stumbling. But he doesn’t say anything else; he just stares the guy down.

The stranger huffs and leaves, and you relax into Yuto. You whine, “Why are guys such creeps?”

Yuto, however, doesn’t pay much attention to your question. He’s looking towards the entrance of the apartment, where there’s commotion. “Shit.”

“Really, what kind of sexist bullshit is that?” You continue griping. “I’m allowed to say no for myself, I don’t know why he’d only listen to you. Hey-!”

Yuto grabs your wrist and pulls you from the throng of people, yanking you into a narrow storage closet with him.

“What are you doing?” You buzz with anxiety. Is he going to try something? “Let me go!”

“_____, you’re wasted. Shut the fuck up.” He pulls the door shut, enclosing the two of you in darkness. “The RAs just showed up, so unless you want to get in serious trouble, you need to just chill and be quiet. Okay? Can you do that?”

You nod solemnly, noticing that the music is now turned off. You don’t want to get in trouble, so you suppose you’ll have to stay put. In a loud whisper, you warn him, “You better not try anything gross, Yuto. I’ve had enough of that for one night.”

“I won’t even touch you, okay? Now be quiet.” Yuto is expressionless as he presses himself as far away from you as possible.

The silence between you is endless as you hear the RAs moving through the room, writing everyone up. In hindsight, it was pretty stupid to look for an on-campus party, considering the rules forbidding alcohol.

Shit - Nailah and Shinhye!

“Oh my God,” you whisper. “My friends might be out there.”

Yuto glares darkly at you, bringing a finger to his lips to remind you to shush yourself.

Shit, shit, shit. You really hope that they’re still outside and that they didn’t come up in time to get busted.

This was all your fault, after all. You’re the one that wanted to go to a party, you’re the one that dragged them along.

All because of that damn Professor Dipwad.

God, what you wouldn’t give to be on him right now.

No! That’s not what you want.

Your cheeks flush. Why does alcohol make you so horny?

You peek up at Yuto, as though you’re concerned he might sense your thoughts. But he just looks towards the door, listening.

His jawline is particularly striking, and you’ve never noticed it before. His hands are surprisingly big, too, his long fingers curling around his biceps as his arms cross over his chest. Actually, he is pretty attractive. Or maybe it’s just that your vodka goggles are in full effect.

He may not have sensed your thoughts, but he definitely senses your stare. Yuto meets your gaze, his eyes firmly locking onto yours. The intensity of his stare makes your heart pound, and you find yourself unable to break away. Like you’re entranced.

Or you’re just drunk.

“You’re so-”

Before you can finish that thought (‘pretty’ is the word you have in mind), Yuto closes the gap between you, his hand covering your mouth to shut you up.

You return his glare with equal fire, but you don’t fight him.

It feels like an eternity before you’re able to leave the small closet, but eventually everybody leaves and Yuto determines that it’s safe to exit. The room is completely empty - not even Wooseok or his roommate are there.

“Wooseok and Minho must be with the RAs,” Yuto muses. “They’ll probably all be back to clean up in a few minutes.”

“That sucks,” you murmur, heading for the kitchen to get one last sip of something good.

“What are you doing? You’ve had more than enough.” Yuto grabs you by the shoulders and steers you towards the door. “Let’s get back to our building.”

“But I’m still thirstyyyy,” you whine as he guides you out the door.

The hallway is clear, and you’re able to slip downstairs without any trouble. You don’t see Nailah or Shinhye at all on your walk back to your dorm, and you hope they’re okay.

Yuto supports you whenever you stumble, your heels suddenly too difficult for you to walk in.

When you reach your building, he ushers you inside. “Just be cool, we have to get past security.”

You nod, and the movement makes you dizzy. He notices that you’re off-balance, and he places an arm around you, holding onto your waist to keep you from falling.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters as you both walk through the lobby, scanning your key cards at the security desk and making it over to the elevators. His arm is around you the whole time, and you relax into his warmth.

It’s a silent trip up to your room, and he holds onto you until you’ve reached your room. You open the door to an empty and dark apartment, meaning that Nailah still hasn’t made it back. Maybe she did get in trouble with the RAs after all…

You turn to Yuto, throwing a smile on your face. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Whatever. Just drink some water and go to bed, okay?” He rolls his eyes to seem unconcerned, but you still think it’s sweet that he’s taking care of you. He turns and heads into his room without another word.

You flip on the lights and collapse onto the couch, mind jumping drunkenly from thought to thought. Where are Shinhye and Nailah? Are they okay?

This is all your damn fault. If only Professor Yang worked at literally any other university, then you never would have crossed paths and he wouldn’t still be on your mind. Even now, he sits in the back of your mind, the memory of your night together resurfacing like it always fucking does.

The thing that’s really hateful about all of it is the fact that you have to pretend like you’re not still interested in him. That you have to just ignore that you’ve ever felt anything about him. It’s all a big lie, and you hate having to walk on eggshells around him.

Why can’t you just be honest?

And suddenly, you have an idea. It’s a terrible one, but let’s be honest - all ideas seem great when you’re drunk. So you pull out your phone and glide through your contacts, where you know you’ve saved Professor Yang’s phone number. It doesn’t even occur to you that it’s his office number and it’s also nearing midnight - all you know is you have to call him. You have to tell him.

You hold the phone to your ear, listening to each ring and hoping desperately to hear his voice on the other end.

No luck.

Instead, you get the generic voicemail greeting, and you should hang up. You should definitely just end the call and not blab. But… you’re drunk.

You’re quiet for a moment after the beep, not sure how to start. And then…

“I hate it. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate trying to hide the fact that I literally think about you every day.”

You’d like to think that your words are coming out smoothly, but in reality you’re stumbling and slurring.

“Literally… I just want you. I want you to touch me. I want to feel your lips and your hands and your body. It’s killing me that I can’t just… I want to get naked and  _fuck_.”

And suddenly, you’re giggling uncontrollably. “That feels so good to just say it! Ugh let’s  _fuck_ , let’s just do the damn thing and screw everybody else. Nothing matters. Just you and me. You know I’ll be  _so_  good to you…”

Like vomit, every fantasy expels itself from you, about how you want to tempt him in class and feel him raw inside you. How you want to choke on his cock and ride his face. Nothing is held back.

You’re about to plead with him to give you just one more night together, but the phone buzzes in your hand, shutting itself off due to low battery. You just stare at it for a moment, grumpy about the fact that, 1) it turned off and 2) he didn’t answer. All you want is to just hear his voice. Maybe you should try calling again?

Nah… you’re tired, and you don’t know where your charger is. So you just collapse onto the couch, disgruntled, and you fall into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

You wake up in the morning with a churning stomach and a headache, but it’s nothing you weren’t expecting. Your neck is stiff from the uncomfortable couch, and you stretch carefully before peeking into the bedroom. **  
**

Thankfully, Nailah is snoozing in her bed. You’re glad she made it back okay. Your memory of last night is a little fuzzy, but you remember not knowing what happened to Nailah and Shinhye at the party.

You take a long shower to clear your head and fry up some eggs once your stomach is settled. When you sit down to eat, you finally plug in your dead cell phone. It powers on, and you’re flooded with texts and missed calls.

Nailah, 12:02am: girl where r u???  
Shinhye, 12:03am: are you okay? Let me know when you get home  
Nailah, 12:05am: seriously answer ur phone  
Nailah, 12:06am: we’re looking everywhere but no one knows where u went

Shit. You start to remember some of the gaps from last night… Nailah wasn’t home when you came back, so she must have been out looking for you.

A couple more texts, presumably after they found you…

Shinhye, 12:24am: please don’t scare us like that again  
Shinhye, 12:24am: call me when you wake up?

And a few in between that seem a bit out of place…

City Boy (Kino), 12:16am: are you okay? lol  
City Boy (Kino), 12:17am: i think you must be drunk  
City Boy (Kino), 12:22am: maybe we should chat tomorrow lmao

What is that supposed to mean? You don’t have any record of texting him last night, and you don’t remember ever running into him. Maybe you were drunker than you thought.

You try to concentrate and remember an order of events from last night. Yuto pulled you into that closet during the bust, and then… he walked you home? Right! And the apartment was empty, so you didn’t know where Nailah was…

Oh, shit.

You called Professor Yang. And you left a voicemail.

_Shit shit shit._

What had you said? Oh God, it better not have been anything stupid…

Wait, was it possible that you called Kino, too? Maybe you were just call-happy. You do get pretty chatty when you’re drunk…

With nervous fingers, you open up your phone app and check your recent calls to assess the damage. But you only see one call from last night - an outgoing call to Kino.

_Oh dear Lord you misdialed._

Your heart races and you feel queasy as the realization hits you. You had thought you were calling Hongseok, which means whatever message you left was  _absolutely_  addressed to him. And if you at all mentioned the night you shared…

Shit! Now all of that was on Kino’s phone! And he has clearly listened to it!

You throw your phone onto the carpeted floor like it was burning your hand. What were you thinking??

Jesus Christ you’re screwed. You are so, so screwed.

* * *

You actually dread R&B Ensemble on Monday. You had spent the whole weekend ignoring Kino’s texts out of sheer terror (and getting lectured by Nailah and Shinhye, but you totally deserve that). You don’t know how much he knows, but you  _do_  know that you  _cannot_  have that conversation with him. **  
**

As a result, you show up a few minutes late to rehearsal, which earns you a slight admonishment from your teacher. You mutter an apology and take your place behind the keyboard, and you feel Kino’s and Yuto’s eyes on you the whole way. Wooseok is missing, and you wonder where he is.

During the break in rehearsal, Yuto catches your attention. “You good?”

It’s a simple question, and you nod. “Thanks for helping me get home. Saturday was a little rough and I think my friends might still be low-key pissed at me for disappearing, but I’m fine otherwise.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes. “You should watch your limits next time.”

You roll your eyes. You don’t need him to lecture you. Obviously you took it too far this weekend. “Hey, do you know why Wooseok’s out?”

“Yeah. He’s banned from extracurriculars for a few weeks as punishment for throwing a party.”

“Really?”

“He probably should have been arrested, considering he was supplying alcohol to minors. Himself included. But the school doesn’t want that negative attention.”

Jeez. You make a mental note to yourself to check in with Wooseok later - partially to see if he’s still up for tutoring this week, but also to see if he’s doing okay.

And then Kino’s suddenly standing in front of you. “Hey.” He’s got his usual smile on his face, and it sends a nervous chill down your spine. “Can I talk to you after practice?”

You find it hard to breathe - you’ll never be ready to have the conversation, but you can’t avoid it forever. “Sure.”

Somehow you manage to get through the rest of rehearsal, and you and Kino head out into the chilly night together. He doesn’t start talking until you get outside.

“So…” he starts. “Good weekend?”

“Quite the opposite,” you confess. “I went to a party that got busted, but luckily I didn’t get caught. And then I think I may have left you an embarrassing voicemail. But Lord knows I don’t remember what the hell I said.”

Kino laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, it’s definitely not anything I expected, I guess. You don’t remember it at all?”

“No, I honestly don’t.”

“Do you want to hear it?” Kino fishes his phone out of his pocket as you both come to a stop at the street corner. “Just to know what you said?”

You don’t particularly want to - you wish you could just brush all of this under the rug. But you know that you need to; otherwise, you’ll stress about the what-ifs for the rest of the foreseeable future. “Okay, yeah.”

He pulls up the voicemail and hands the device to you, which you hold up to your ear. You’re relieved to hear that you don’t once mention the intended recipient’s name, but you hardly get to feel relief. The voicemail is full of filthy imaginings and you’re absolutely mortified by the sexual picture you drunkenly painted.

Your cheeks are burning when you finally hand the phone back, speechless, and you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“I’ll delete it now. I only kept it because I thought you might want to know.”

“Thank you.”

The two of you start walking again, and you can sense that he’s dying to ask more about it. You’ll have no choice but to answer.

“Um,” he laughs again. “So I guess my biggest question about it is… you know, since you were drunk and all, did you actually mean that?”

Your chest tightens, and you realize that his cheeks have grown pink, too. Of  _course_  he thought it was meant for him. You did leave the message on his phone, after all. But is it possible that he actually wants that message to be his?

Just rip the bandaid off. It sucks, but you have to be honest. You don’t want to lead him on.

“So… I was actually trying to call someone else. I didn’t mean for you to get that message.”

He nods briskly to seem unaffected. “You know, I kind of thought that might be the case.”

“I’m really sorry, Kino.”

He waves his hands to dismiss your apology. “No, don’t worry about it. And I promise I won’t get weird about it, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he asks, “So, who is he?”

“Just an old fling. No one important.” You feel like he deserves a bit more info than that, so you continue. “There’s nothing between us. I just… I think about him sometimes, but nothing is going to happen.”

“Ah. I’m sorry about that. You, uh, seem to be pretty into him.” He struggles to hold back a snicker, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Knock it off!” You start laughing. “Don’t start joking about that. I’m still embarrassed.”

“But it’s the truth,” he muses, laughing and nudging you with his elbow. His laughter warms you, genuinely making you feel more comfortable. You’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, but he already feels like a close friend.

This time an easy quiet falls between you as your dorm comes into view. How does he always manage to make you feel so relaxed?

Before you split off to go to your room, you turn to him and apologize. “I’m sorry I ignored you all weekend. I was panicked and embarrassed about the whole situation.”

“It’s okay. I totally understand.” Kino nods reassuringly.

You nod, too. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” he echoes. His eyes search your face and he wears a warm expression. “Do you maybe want to do something next weekend? Like, hang out somewhere that’s not a practice room?”

That actually sounds like a really nice idea. You really like spending time with him, so why not? “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Awesome. I’ll make the plans then.” Waving cutely, he departs for his own dorm. You watch him leave, finally starting to relax after such a stressful couple of days.

Thankfully, Professor Yang would never hear that message. And the conversation with Kino went better than expected.

Maybe things will be back on track now, as long as you’re careful.

* * *

When you see Professor Yang in class the next morning, he acts like his usual self. He is all business as he rolls up his sleeves and scribbles physics equations on the chalkboard, blissfully unaware of the way you spend the whole class admiring his striking profile instead of taking notes. **  
**

Seriously, how could someone have such a great nose?

Shinhye, however,  _totally_  notices your gawking.

She scoots her chair a little closer to yours and leans in, murmuring under her breath. “He’s exceptionally hot today, don’t you think?”

You immediately redirect your eyes to your completely blank notebook. “That’s inappropriate.”

“ _You’re_  inappropriate,” she sasses.

She doesn’t know how right she is.

“Don’t worry,” Shinhye pats your leg under the desk. “You can copy my notes later.”

“Any questions?” Professor Yang speaks up from the front of the room, capturing your undivided attention again. He carefully avoids your gaze as he peeks around the room. No one speaks up, so he moves on. “Alright, then. I’ve graded your labs from last week, so when I call your name please come up to collect your work.”

You’re certain that’s code for I-still-don’t-know-your-names, and you try not to smile. Why do you think that’s cute?

He starts working his way through the pile, calling one student’s name after another. And when he finally says your name, he looks directly up at you and your pulse skyrockets. You hold his gaze for a moment before Shinhye gives you a gentle shove.

“Don’t be so obvious!” She whispers, nudging you to stand. “Get up there.”

You hurry to the front of the room, trying not to make a scene. Are you walking too fast? Do you look awkward? Can everyone see how hot your face feels?

When you reach him, you accept your lab papers without looking up at him, but you think that you are  _literally_  going to die when your fingers accidentally brush his. You restrain your squeal and rush back to your seat.

Shinhye leans towards you, struggling to hold back her laughter. “Oh my God you are so awkward.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, completely overwhelmed by this sudden bout of anxiety. You need to get over this crush  _fast_ , because clearly you’re acting like a fool around him.

You distract yourself by flipping through your lab to see what points you missed. But something doesn’t quite add up.

It’s not a surprise to you that you got some things wrong - you and Shinhye had struggled a lot with getting accurate decibel readings, so you figured some of your calculations were off. But when you total up the points you received and the percentage he scrawled across the top of your lab, the numbers don’t match.

He gave you a higher grade.

…did he do it on purpose?

Normally you’d let it slide if a teacher miscalculated your grade in your favor. Why not accept the accidental grade boost? But with him… this is different.

You told him you want to be graded fairly, that you want to end the class with exactly the grade you deserve. How would it reflect on you if someone noticed you were getting higher grades than what was warranted? What would they think you had done to convince Professor Yang to boost your grade?

Sighing, you sink further into your chair.

You’re going to have to chat with him again.


	5. Bonus Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I am primarily posting this on tumblr, i've gotten a few asks about the characters in Hot for Teacher. Here are two of my favorites, from Kino's and Wooseok's POVs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in reading more bonus content from different character POVs, check out this masterlist of character Q&As! https://gwentoryfics.tumblr.com/post/184932016475/ask-my-muses-master-post

**Question** : Hyunggu, what was your reaction when you saw the MC in the elevator?

 **Answer** :

The elevator slows to a halt, only one floor away from Kino’s destination - the sixth floor, where his dorm is situated. After stopping by the vending machines on the eleventh floor, his hands are now full of Doritos (his favorite late-night snack). He’s ready to binge-watch a few more episodes of Forensic Files and nothing can stop him.

Except her.

The doors slide open to reveal her image, and he’s taken aback for more than one reason. Not only is it unusual that he would see her in this dorm building (and well past midnight), but there’s clearly something wrong. He can tell from her disheveled hair and dripping wet dress.

“_____?” He murmurs her name, and she looks up at him, clearly just as surprised as he.

“Kino…” She sounds weak, defeated.

This isn’t right. He’s never seen her so distraught. Frowning worriedly, he offers, “Do you want to come over?” No matter what put her in this state, he needs to be there for her. She’s one of Kino’s best friends; of course he wants to take care of her.

With a gentle nod, she steps onto the elevator. She seems a little wobbly, and she smells faintly of liquor. Kino is about to reach out and steady her when she leans back against the wall of the elevator, supporting herself.

Kino suddenly remembers his last encounter with her drunken self - that explicit voicemail she left when she thought she had dialed someone else. Even though she made it clear that the message wasn’t meant for him, he has to wonder how things could be different if it  _had_  been his.

What if she had meant everything she said in that voicemail, and she was as hopelessly attracted to him as the voicemail made her sound? How would he have responded then?

He doesn’t know.

She’s certainly cute. That much is undeniable. And she’s incredibly easy to get along with. Kino had so much fun with her at karaoke, and she’s definitely one of the better friends he’s made at university.

But when it comes to more than friendship, he’s just not sure what he would want. He hasn’t really thought about it too much because he doesn’t want to risk losing her friendship.

Kino lets her into the dorm, quietly letting her know that his roommate is asleep in their shared bedroom. “You don’t have to whisper, though. He’s a heavy sleeper, and you can’t hear much in there when the door is closed.”

She just nods, slipping out of her heels. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” Kino immediately responds, but then he holds up a finger. “Actually, hold on a sec.”

He slips into the bedroom for a moment and digs around in the pitch black for a t-shirt and shorts. Her dress is completely wet and can’t possibly be comfortable, so the least he can do is give her something else to wear.

She gratefully accepts his clothing, and she’s in the bathroom just long enough to make him worry if she’s doing alright. But just as he’s about to check in on her, she reemerges.

“Kinooooo…” She groans as she comes into the living room, plopping down on the couch next to him. She leans over, resting her head on his shoulder and tucking her legs up onto the couch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have cancelled our plans.”

Is that what’s bothering her? “It’s okay. I know that stuff comes up.” He doesn’t know exactly why she cancelled, but that doesn’t really matter. She hadn’t said much, just that she needed a raincheck for tonight.

Suddenly she sits up and looks right at him. “It was a shit night, Kino, and we would have had fun. We would have had  _so_  much fun, and I just want to eat barbecue - God I could go for some barbecue right now…”

Kino frowns. So something else is wrong. “What happened? Do you want to talk about it?”

Dramatically, she collapses back onto the couch. “I made out with Wooseok.”

 _What_?

The sudden confession catches him entirely off guard. He’s aware that she’s been tutoring him, but he didn’t realize that they were close. Or that she was into him.

The most confusing part of it all, though, is the fact that he feels distinctly disappointed.

“You did?” He tries to sound unfazed, but he’s not sure if he’s convincing. “I… didn’t realize you liked him.”

“I don’t know if I do.” She sighs. “I don’t know what to think. It was sort of an accident.”

Kino’s caring-mode goes into overdrive. “Did he force himself on you?”

“No! No. It’s… I wanted to. I just… ugh I’m so tired. Can I stay over?”

He doesn’t hesitate to nod. “Yeah, of course you can stay. But I need you to drink some water before you go to sleep, okay?” She doesn’t seem out-of-her-wits drunk, but he needs to make sure that he’s at least somewhat hydrated so she doesn’t feel like death in the morning.

“What about some more tequila?” She giggles, grabbing his arm playfully.

“No.” He laughs, unable to be stern with her. “You need water.”

“Ugh, I knowww… That’s why my dress is wet.”

Kino gets up from the couch to fetch her some water. “What happened with that, anyway?”

“I did the same thing you’re doing now.” She padded behind him, following him into the kitchen, watching him fill the glass. “I told Wooseok we needed some water, but neither one of us finished, and so we just put the cups on the counter, and then he put  _me_  on the counter, and then he took off my underwear and-”

“Whoa! I don’t need all the details.” Kino interrupts her, not really wanting to hear any more of her ramblings about Wooseok and what he did or didn’t do to her tonight. He holds out the water to her. “Drink.”

She gulped it down way too fast, handing back the empty cup. “There. I did it.”

“I’m proud of you.” Kino places the cup in the sink to be washed at a later time, and then he grabs his collection of Doritos from the counter. “I know it’s not barbecue, but do you want some chips?”

“Hell yeah I want some chips.” Like a vulture, she swoops in, grabbing one of the snack-size bags from Kino’s hands. “Why do you have so many?”

Shrugging, Kino leads the way back to the couch. “I just like them.”

Mid-crunch, she blabs, “They’re goooood.” Without any sort of prompting, she reclines across the couch, resting the back of her head on Kino’s thigh.

He just chuckles. “Please, make yourself at home.”

She gives him a stupid smile and shoves another chip in her mouth. “Hey, Kino… Have you had your heart broken before?”

The question catches him off guard, but he thinks for a moment. “Yeah, but it wasn’t really a big deal. It just felt like the worst thing in the world at the time. But that was years ago, so…”

“What happened?”

He looks down at her, innocently munching on her cheesy chips. “I had a crush in high school, and when I confessed they just laughed at me.”

She frowns. “That wasn’t very nice of them.”

“It’s whatever. I went on to have other relationships and it wasn’t really a big deal.”

“You’re probably too good for them, anyway. You’re so fun. And talented. And clever. They probably had zero personality and a poo brain.”

Kino laughs warmly. “A poo brain?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

Without thinking, Kino’s non-cheesy hand comes to rest on his lap, his fingers gently stroking her hair. He just feels so comfortable being close with her that he doesn’t even realize it might be a weird gesture.

“Mm.” She hums softly, closing her eyes. “That’s nice.”

“You like it?” He drags his fingers across her scalp.

“Mhm.” Her whole face relaxes for just a moment, and then she frowns slightly. “I think he has a girlfriend.”

“Who does?”

“The guy I like. Liked. I don’t know.”

“…The guy from the voicemail?”

She nods, eyes finally coming open. “I saw him tonight and it was awful.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s a secret.”

Kino’s hand passes over her hair one more time, enjoying the feel of it. “I’m sorry that it was so awful. You’re probably too good for him, too. Clearly he’s got a severe case of poo brain if he picked someone else over you.”

Her laughter is sweet and bright, and it warms him. He’s always glad when he can make her laugh and lift her spirits. She murmurs, “Yeah, Professor Poo Brain.”

“Professor?” His hand pauses. She couldn’t mean that literally… right?

“Yeah he teaches his little poo brain class, he doesn’t even know how to add…”

What the hell is she talking about? “You’re not making any sense.”

She waves her hands, brushing him off. “It’s okay. It’s a secret. I want to sleep now.”

Kino desperately hopes that it’s just the alcohol making her spew nonsense. There’s no way she could be wrapped up in something with a professor…

* * *

 **Question** : Wooseok, what were your first opinions of the MC when you met her compared to now?

 **Answer** :

Wooseok sits on the floor in front of the couch in his dorm’s living room, bouncing his legs and absentmindedly picking at a rip in his jeans - the fashionable type of rip, not the accidental kind. “She and I had some classes together last year, but we didn’t really ever talk. Like sometimes we’d do the whole ‘small talk thing’ before class, but honestly I only think that happened because I just like to talk a lot. So I kind of forced her to talk to me because I didn’t want to be quiet.” He laughs at his admission. 

“Right off the bat she seemed like a smart chick, and she was hot and everything. But like I said, we didn’t really know each other. We definitely started moving beyond being acquaintances just in this last month or so, since she started tutoring me. I was right - she’s definitely a smart chick.”

He cracks his knuckles and stretches his wrists, restless as he thinks about her. “The thing is, I still don’t know too much about her. Usually when we’re together, we’re just talking about music stuff. It’d be cool to hang out more, maybe. If she’s not completely pissed at me after last night…”

Wooseok still doesn’t totally understand why she took off the way she did last night. He figures she was probably embarrassed, but she didn’t say anything when she left. The biggest fear he has is that he took it too far, that they were too drunk to be doing stupid shit like that, and now she might feel weird around him.

Possibly the most confusing part of it all is that she left her underwear on the kitchen floor. Did she just forget? Did she do it on purpose? He doesn’t know.

Should he give it back? She’d think it was weird if he kept it, right?

He checks his phone once again to find that she still hasn’t texted. To be fair, he hasn’t texted her either - he thought he should give her some space. But he’s still anxious to hear from her.

Wooseok won’t even get to see her at R&B Ensemble tomorrow… this is the last week of his suspension. That means the next time he sees her will be for their one-on-one tutoring, assuming that she doesn’t bail or anything. Which she might. 

He’s not even concerned with trying to do anything with her, whether it’s a sex thing or a relationship thing. He was just having fun and maybe got a little out of control. All that matters is that she’s alright with what happened between them.

“Ugh.” He tosses his phone onto the couch cushion behind him and stands, heading for the door. “I need to take a walk. Clear my head.”

As the door slams behind him, his phone buzzes:

_(1) New Text from ______


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings | Mentions of abusive familial relationships. Explicit sexual content. Grinding. Penetrative sex. Swearing. And, as always, poor choices.

The morning brings with it a throbbing headache and a brief moment of surprise when you realize you’ve woken up in an apartment that is not your own. You remember quickly, however, that you ran into Kino last night and ended up crashing at his place, so you’re not alarmed. **  
**

You’re sweaty under the blanket that’s draped over you, and your shirt- er, the one you borrowed from Kino- sticks to your back. Vague bits of a dream mix with faded memories of last night, and you have to take a moment to sort everything out.

You went to the club with the seniors from jazz band. The boys were so supportive, and their performance was stellar, and… and they fucking signed you up to play. Right.

And then you ran into Professor Yang, who sent you home. Your whole body had throbbed with want for him, as per usual. But instead…

Wooseok.

You went to Wooseok’s place, and he fingered you on the kitchen counter.

What was that all about? How did you end up making out with him of all people? Not that he was a bad choice or anything, maybe just an unexpected one.

Desperately, you try to piece together what you feel about the whole situation. So you start with the things you know to be true about him:

  1. Wooseok is tall and attractive, especially in a jean jacket.
  2. Wooseok is an incredible kisser.
  3. Wooseok knows how to use his fingers.



And then you think of things that you know to be true about you:

  1. You’re feeling turned on again just by thinking about Wooseok.
  2. You’re blessedly distracted by something that isn’t Professor Yang for once.
  3. You don’t know what you feel towards Wooseok emotionally, but you maybe wouldn’t mind if something like last night happened again. Maybe.



You puff out your cheeks and let the air rush out in a deep sigh. Somehow, you had managed to make a messy semester even messier. Literally all you had to do was just get your shit together. Is that really such a difficult thing for you to accomplish?

Thoughts of Wooseok’s lips, tongue, and fingers swirl in your brain, and it’s weirdly relieving. It feels like there may be hope for you after all - your world doesn’t have to revolve around Professor Yang. You can move on. You can see other people and stop feeling so hung up on him. 

Maybe the rest of this semester won’t be so bad.

Grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, you check your notifications. Just a message from Nailah - oops, you forgot to let her know you weren’t coming home last night - and an email in your school account. You send off a quick reply to Nailah letting her know that you’re alive and that you’ll make it up to her, and then you check the email.

“_____,

Because you missed our meeting last week, I would like to reschedule. I have set aside time this Thursday afternoon to meet with you. Please let me know if this time does not work for you.

Thank you,

Professor Hongseok Yang”

The email is so formal, it makes you roll your eyes. You get it - your school email is probably monitored and he doesn’t want to at all hint at any kind of comfortability between the two of you, but it doesn’t have to sound like a fucking dissertation. 

You know what? Whatever. You’ll meet with him. It’s not a big deal, anyway, because you’re getting over him. 

Without the slightest hint of sass or sarcasm or whatever else, you genuinely write back: 

“Professor Yang,

Thursday afternoon works great for me. I’ll see you then.

Thank you!

_____”

Sending the message, you feel relieved. You’re turning over a new leaf. All that’s left for you to do is send a quick text to Wooseok letting him know that you won’t be able to tutor him this week, and once that is on its way to him you feel like you’re ready to start the day.

As you sit up on the couch, about to get up and go to the bathroom, you notice a Kino-sized lump on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Had he slept there all night?

You reach down, lifting the end of the blanket that covers his head. “Psst.”

He inhales deeply and shifts, eyes opening and squinting at the sunlight pouring in from the windows. Passively, you note that he’s actually really cute when he’s so sleepy.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you coo. You ruffle his hair, and he swats your hand away, emitting a noise that sounds like a cross between a chuckle and a groan. 

“Five more minutes.”

“No. I’m up so you should be up, too.” 

“Oh, is that how this works?” He peeks up at you, one eye still squinted shut. 

“Think so. I  _am_  the guest of honor here, so you should probably do what I say.”

“Guest of honor, my ass.”

“I’m not the one sleeping on the floor, so I think that puts me a step above you.”

“Please. I’m only down here because of you.”

You laugh. “Why? Were you worried I might have nightmares out here by myself?”

“No, I thought you’d be fine.” He sits up, stretching his arms and back, which are surely stiff from sleeping on the carpet all night. “You’re the one that asked me to stay with you.”

Your cheeks suddenly warm and your eyes widen. “…I did?”

He nods. “Yeah, I was going to head in because I thought you were asleep, but the second I stood up you asked me to stay. So I stayed.”

“Shit, Kino, I was drunk. You didn’t have to do that for me.” You frown. “You’re probably stiff as hell because of it.”

Kino just shrugs. “Well, now you know what I’m willing to do for you.”

“Would you be willing to make me some eggs?”

With a broad smile, Kino stands. “Anything for you, dear.” And then he pushes you back onto the couch, giggling like a maniac as he runs for the kitchen.

“Shithead!”

* * *

You’re grateful to find Changgu at the reception desk on Monday. You never actually sent the apology text that you drafted, and at this point it’s probably better to just do it in person - no matter how embarrassing it might be.

“Hey, Changgu.” You approach the desk, greeting him quietly. Shyly.

He looks up from the computer, eyebrows lifting in surprise before a smile settles on his lips. “Quite the weekend, huh?”

Oh, he has no idea. “You’re telling me.”

“How can I help you?”

“I wanted to apologize for everything. You guys could have all had a perfectly good time without me. I shouldn’t have lied to you about my age.”

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that too often. But I’m not going to lecture you.”

“Thanks.” You shift your weight awkwardly, not really sure what else to say. “Anyway, I really appreciate you inviting me to the jazz club, and getting me into the jazz band practice. I really enjoyed it. Both of those things.”

“It’s not a problem.” Changgu smiles warmly. What a gentle ray of sunshine he is. Then he grabs a stack of post-it notes and scribbles something down before handing it over. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

“Oh?” You look at the square of paper to find what looks to be a phone number.

“From Yanan. You don’t have to text him if you don’t want to. He can be a little forward sometimes, but he won’t be weird about it if he doesn’t hear from you. He just always has to try, you know?”

“Oh. Okay.” You slip it into your pocket, not exactly sure what you want to do with it. “Um, I should probably get going. Class and all. You know.”

As you turn to head out, he calls your name. “_____?”

“Yeah?” You look back at him.

If you’re not mistaken, Changgu’s cheeks are the most delicate rose color. “Don’t forget that you have my number, too.”

Is he flirting?

You smile reassuringly. If Bad Choices is becoming your middle name, you may as well embrace it. “I won’t forget.”

* * *

 

Thursday afternoon, you find yourself in Professor Yang’s office, as he requested. You feel surprisingly level-headed, but you do notice just a hint of nervousness in the back of your mind. After all, you’re  _getting_  over him - so you’re not quite over him yet. He’s still beautiful and tempting and  _damn him for wearing such a delicious cologne all the time_.  

Professor Yang sits across from you, behind his desk, as always. He’s looking through the two incorrectly-graded assignments you brought in, and he takes the time to correct them. **  
**

“I apologize. You were right about my miscalculations.” He plugs the updated grades into his computer, and they hardly even affect your total grade. “I assure you that I’ll take my time with your midterm and all other assignments from here on out.”

“Thank you.” You take back your labs and stuff them into your backpack. The midterm you took on Tuesday hadn’t been terribly difficult and you’re anticipating that you’ll get a good grade anyway. But at least you know that he’s aware of his mistakes so you won’t have to confront him about it again (hopefully). 

You stand, ready to leave now that your meeting’s purpose is complete, but he beckons you. “I need to speak with you about something else.”

You meet his caramel eyes, and he’s just as impossible to read as always. Begrudgingly, you fall back into your chair. “What is it?”

Professor Yang’s tongue swipes over his lower lip, but in such a way to indicate that he’s thinking, considering where to start. Still, it catches your attention, and you probably look at his lips a hair longer than you should.  _Damn him_.

“About what you said this weekend…” He searches your face. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” **  
**

Why the _fuck_  did he have to say that, of all things?!

“Okay,” you spit out, trying to act aloof even though you’re fucking mortified that he would even bring that up. You’re sure that your furiously warming cheeks give you away. “Good for you.”

Professor Yang looks dissatisfied. “Can we perhaps have an adult conversation about this?”

“I don’t have to have anything with you.” You cross your arms over your chest, defaulting to your usual sass mode that always seems to emerge around him.

His eyes narrow and he scoffs. “See, this is exactly why I said you needed to leave Saturday night. Do you at all notice the childish fit that you’re throwing right now?”

With a roll of your eyes (yes, you realize that’s still childish), you uncross your arms and take a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s talk. What do you want?” **  
**

“I want to know what’s going on with you. Why did you tell me to say hi to my girlfriend?”

The thing is, you know that he knows exactly why you said it. He just wants you to admit it out loud. “I was heated.” That’s as much as you’ll give him.

“Is that why you left our last appointment? Because you were heated?” Professor Yang recalls the way you stormed off after seeing that woman in his office last week.

“You seemed busy.”

“I wasn’t. She was leaving.”

“Whatever. I didn’t feel like talking.”

“Did you think she was my girlfriend?”

“I don’t care who she is.”

“She’s my sister.”

Somehow, that genuinely catches you off guard. You shift in your seat, curious. “You have a sister?”

Professor Yang nods calmly. “Two. Both younger than me. The sister that you saw was in town for a conference, and she just stopped in to visit. I don’t get to see her very often.”

Shit. Well that certainly explains why she was so gorgeous, since they share the same gene pool. You try to remain neutral about it all. “I’m glad you got to see her, then.”

“The way you’ve reacted to her is very concerning.” His brow furrows. “I knew this would be an issue if we tried to do a class together.”

“This has nothing to do with you and me, okay? This…” you gesture between him and yourself, “…is nothing. You can date whoever you want. I literally don’t care.”

“You want me to believe that after the way you acted?”

“You think I’m jealous or something?” You scoff, laughing, but it’s awkward and forced. He notices, and gives you the look of  _oh-please_. Defensively you say, “I’m not jealous!”

Pause. A lull in conversation. You’re both aware that you’re lying, and it’s obvious that you will never admit to it, no matter what he says. You hold each others’ gaze, and you wonder which of you will be the first to look away. And then he speaks. **  
**

“I wanted to tell you something else. Something honest. But I need you to not read into it, okay? Just take it at face value. Promise me you can do that.”

Faintly, you notice the way your heart skips. “Okay. I promise.”

“You obviously shouldn’t have been at the club over the weekend, but I just thought you should know that you’re a really talented pianist. I was very impressed to hear you play like that.”

It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was in the audience while you were playing. But now that he’s acknowledging it, you feel retroactively nervous about your performance. “Thank you… I appreciate that.”

He nods once and then turns to his computer, closing out of the grading screen and generally avoiding your gaze.

“I want to say something honestly, too.” You get up the nerve to speak, but you have to hold your hands together to keep them from trembling. How could he affect you so much?

His gaze is so intense, full of warning. “Please be careful with whatever it is you want to say.”

He doesn’t trust you. You can’t blame him. You don’t really trust him either. You’re both tiptoeing around very dangerous territory even allowing yourselves to be in the same room. But this time you want to share with him something genuine, something that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever may have transpired between the two of you in the past.

“I’m truly enjoying your class. And it’s not because you’re the one teaching it, I swear. The material is really interesting to me and I’m really looking forward to building my dulcimer.”

He smiles, and it’s almost unguarded. Like he’s relieved that you didn’t say something else. “That means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m not kidding when I say I’ve been looking forward to this class since I heard about it last year. And I think you’re a great teacher, everything else aside.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I actually ask you a question? About building instruments and stuff.” **  
**

He sits back a little, as if he’s finally able to relax around you, now that you’re actually acting like a student speaking with their teacher. “Of course.”

“When did you start building instruments? And did you build that guitar?” You gesture to the instrument resting in the corner of the room, with its beautifully stained wood and delicate detailing around the sound hole. 

“I did!” He lights up and stands, retrieving the guitar. “I built my first guitar when I was sixteen. Didn’t turn out that great because I was not very skilled. But after honing my craft for a few years, I saw more success in the instruments I built. This little lady came along just two years ago.”

“She’s beautiful,” you praise his handiwork. “Seriously. I’m impressed that it’s actually a handmade guitar.”

Professor Yang looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. “Of course it’s handmade. All of the best instruments are. You expect a machine to produce something that sounds like this?”

He strums the strings gently, an arpeggiated chord ringing sweetly through the room. The warm, buttery sound is enough to raise goosebumps on your arms.

“You’re right. No robot could ever make that.” 

“This guitar is my heart and soul.” He smooths his hand over its curves lovingly.

“Can you play that? ‘Heart and Soul’?”

“Why on  _Earth_  would I want to play that atrocity on my masterpiece of an instrument? Absolutely not.”

You laugh. “Fair enough. Play something else, then. I want to hear what she can do.” **  
**

With no further prompting needed, he dives into a beautiful melody, plucking the strings softly and tapping his nails against the strings to create a beat. The sound is gorgeous, and it’s incredibly special to see him get swept up in the music he’s creating. He’s entirely focused on the movement of his fingers, the swell of each phrase, the gentle groove he’s creating.

Your eyes close so you can hear the music more deeply. It seeps into you, and you can feel him in each note. He is part of the music, giving himself to the melody and turning it into something beyond notes on a page. He breathes life into it.

The song ends, and you wish it never had to. You could listen to him play forever. In the end, all you can manage is a soft wow.

“Nice, right?” Professor Yang grins widely, clearly proud of himself.

“Seriously incredible. And you’re so good at playing it, too.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

You sit up a little more, interested. “The way you were tapping the strings… it reminds me of those people who can, like, play the strings and drum on the guitar body at the same time. Can you do that?”

“I used to. Let’s see…”

He plays something a little more upbeat this time, tapping his fingers, knuckles, and the heel of his palm against the guitar’s body as he strums. It’s not perfect and eventually he stumbles, but it’s still incredibly impressive.

With a short laugh, he gives up. “Like I said, I  _used_  to. It has been a while.”

“That’s probably the coolest thing in the world,” you laugh along with him. “I don’t know how you have enough coordination to do that.” **  
**

“It’s a skill. Like anything else, you just have to take the time to practice and learn.” Professor Yang drums his fingers against the wood softly. “Clearly I’m a little out of practice.”

“I mean, if you don’t have the time to grade my labs properly, I can’t imagine you have time to sit around drumming on your guitar.”

He cocks his head and purses his lips. “You try teaching a class at a university and we’ll see how easy it is for you to keep up with everything.”

“Hey, I’m not doubting the incredible stress you must be under.” You tease. 

It hits you then how incredibly comfortable you feel with him, how easy it is to be with him unguarded. It’s really… nice.

There’s a knock at the door, then, and Professor Yang glances at the clock on his desk. “Ah. Come in!”

The door opens to reveal another student - a boy from your class. “Hi, Professor.” He notices you still sitting in the office. “Am I too early for our meeting?”

Professor Yang reassures him, “Right on time, actually.”

You nod. “I was just getting ready to leave.” Grabbing your bag, you stand and address Professor Yang. “Thank you for meeting with me today. Really.”

“Not a problem. Thank you for making the time to stop in. I’m glad we got everything sorted out.” He nods once to you. “Have a good weekend and I’ll see you in class.”

“You, too.” 

The two of you exchange a smile, and it feels delightfully innocent. It feels like it means something different, like an agreement to be okay with each other from now on. An agreement to not be at each others’ throats this semester. It gives you hope that you’ve finally broken through into a more peaceful part of your relationship as student and teacher.

This semester is going to be just fine.

* * *

“_____.”

Your eyes lift from the keyboard to find that the tallest human you know somehow snuck into the R&B Ensemble rehearsal without you noticing. You forgot that he was allowed to rejoin the group this week. “Oh. Hi.”

“…hi.” Wooseok tries to smile, but it’s small and awkward and he looks kind of concerned.

You haven’t spoken to him at all during the week or so that has passed since you made out with him. The only communication that happened was the text that you sent to let him know you had to cancel tutoring. He hadn’t responded, and now that you think about it, you probably should have reached out to him again at some point.

A smile pulls across your lips, although you’re sure it seems just as ingenuine as his. But if it’s ingenuine, it’s only because you’re actually wildly nervous about being in front of him again. From your seat on the piano bench, he towers over you, tall and handsome and… and he’s wearing that fucking jean jacket. It’s devastating.

The silence between the two of you stretches on for far too long, and he eventually gives up on having a conversation as he retreats to the drumset. 

Yikes. You didn’t mean for that to get so weird.

Rehearsal goes much more smoothly now that Wooseok is back, and he drums like he never missed a single practice. Every rhythm and fill is spot on. The whole ensemble falls into a groove that’s just a little bit deeper, a little bit smoother than before. And you can tell that your instructor, Typhanie, is jazzed about it.

After rehearsal, Kino darts over to the keyboard. “_____, your solo was killer tonight!”

“You know I’d say the same to you, but I compliment you every week and eventually you’re going to get a big head about it.”

He pouts. “Nonsense. Compliment me.”

You rise to your feet and pat his head twice. “Well done.”

Kino rolls his eyes, but his smile is bright. He nods his head in the direction of the door, tugging on your sleeve absentmindedly. “Come on, let’s go. I want to ask you something.”

You grab your things and follow him. “Alright. Go on.”

“So, um, two-fold question.” He pushes the door open, and ushers you out of the room. “First, are you free this weekend? Specifically Saturday night?”

“I think so. Are we gonna do something?”

“Yeah, I just wanted-”

“_____! Hold up!” Wooseok’s voice precedes him down the hall as he comes thundering after you. Both you and Kino pause as he approaches. “Sorry, can I talk to you? Please?”

You look over at Kino, who wears a slight frown. As much as you don’t want to do this to Kino, you know you really should talk with Wooseok. “Can I catch up with you later?” 

Kino cocks his head, like he’s surprised you would choose Wooseok over him. But you’re not choosing Wooseok over him, you just… you just have to do this. Kino throws on a half-hearted smile and says, “Sure. Later.”

Wooseok pulls you aside as Kino departs, heading down a different hallway to get you away from the other students leaving rehearsal. You don’t protest, but you tell yourself that you will if he tries anything funny.  

“What is it?” you ask, knowing full well what this conversation is going to be.

“I was kind of hoping you could tell me.” Wooseok expression is unsettled. “I’ve been dying to talk to you, but I thought you might need space, since you just kind of stormed off and then immediately canceled tutoring.”

Oh shit. You didn’t mean for it to come off that way. You canceled because of Professor Yang, not because things were weird between you and Wooseok. Nevertheless, you had run out of his apartment without any kind of explanation, and that is entirely your fault. “I’m sorry I left like that. And I swear, I didn’t cancel tutoring because of… everything. Something else came up. That’s all.”

The gentle giant takes a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. We were both a little drunk and I shouldn’t have taken it so far. If you don’t ever want to be around me again, I understand. But I just wanted to talk to you about it and let you know that I’m sorry. Honestly.”

Your chest warms. It’s so sweet that he’s worried about you, but it’s also unnecessary. There’s nothing for him to be worried about. “It’s okay. Really. You have nothing to feel bad about. I… I wanted it. And I liked it.” You have to look away from him as you admit it.

It feels like a weight is lifted between you. “I did, too. You’re a good kisser.” He chuckles softly, his hands shyly slipping into his pockets.

“Not so bad yourself,” you chime, still avoiding his gaze. “Um, so even though I enjoyed it, I just felt kind of confused after? I’m…” Go on. You can say it. “I’m getting over someone. So I didn’t know what to feel about all of it. Other than fucking  _mortified_  because of your roommate.”

“Don’t worry about him. I promise he doesn’t care.” **  
**

Finally, you look up at him. He really is quite handsome, and you fully understand why your drunk self had enjoyed him so much.

“But I totally understand. I didn’t assume that it meant anything, but thanks for letting me know. Oh, by the way…” Wooseok drops his backpack from his shoulder and unzips one of the small side pockets. “I brought something for you.”

You accept the square of tissue, confused about what he could possibly be giving you - until you unwrap it. He had nicely folded your abandoned underwear to return to you, which is simultaneously embarrassing and sweet.

“Oh my God,” you mumble as you recognize the underwear, a stupid little chuckle leaving you. “I… um, thank you.”

“I’ve gotta be honest, I thought about keeping them.”

“W-what?”

Wooseok shrugs nonchalantly, a goofy grin on his face. “I mean, it’s kind of hot to have a girl’s panties. And they’re cute.”

“You really have no filter.” You stuff the panties into your own backpack, flustered.

“Just wanted to see your reaction,” he laughs. “Worth it.” 

“Glad you thought so. Can we head out now?”

“Mm.” He nods once, and you both head for the stairs. “So, just to make sure we’re both on the same page, I still want to be your friend and I don’t expect anything else from you.”

“Agreed.” You smile, grateful that he’s so considerate about all of this. But against your better judgment, your words don’t stop there. “But if it happens again…”

Wooseok freezes a few stairs ahead of you, turning to face you exactly at eye level. He peers at you curiously. “If it happens again…?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. You can’t turn back now, so you may as well embrace it. “Then it happens. But I’m not just a booty call, so don’t even think about treating me that way.”

“So…” He moves up a step towards you, regaining a few inches of height. His voice is low as he asks,  “…what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying… if it feels right and we’re in the moment, then it is what it is.” You know that you’re still being incredibly vague, but you just can’t bring yourself to say  _I’m down to fuck if you are_. “But no catching feelings because I’m still trying to sort mine out.”

“Right, with the guy you’re getting over and everything.” Wooseok leans in a little, the smallest smirk on his lips. “So I shouldn’t call you up out of the blue. But if we’re both here, and we’re both  _in the moment_ …”

He leans in further, and you realize he’s going in for a kiss the second he grabs your hand. But you’re all too aware of the fact that you’re standing on the main staircase of the music building, and anyone could walk past you at any time.

You shake off his hand and put your hand on his chest, holding him back. “Not here, idiot. Someone might see!”

He grins mischievously and shrugs. “Worth a shot.” **  
**

After that, Wooseok walks you all the way to your dorm, and he’s a total gentleman. He stands with you in front of your building for a moment, his hands buried in his pockets.

“Just so you know, you’re welcome to come over to my place whenever,” he offers. “Even if you just want to hang out. We could play games or something. We’re friends, after all.”

“That we are. Thanks.” You hold your fist out for him to bump. “See you at tutoring on Thursday, if not before then?”

“Yeah.” He bumps your fist with his own and smiles sweetly. “Catch you later.”

As he walks off, you’re actually really pleased with the way things turned out. Although you didn’t expect to actually bring up the whole maybe-we-could-do-this-again thing, it excites you that he’s at least open to the idea. Who says you can’t have a fling?

You head upstairs and open the door to your room, and you remember that Kino was in the middle of asking you something when he left - and he didn’t seem too pleased by the interruption. So… maybe you should call him to see what’s going on. You do feel kind of bad that he had to leave on his own. **  
**

You’re not sure why your impulse is to call and not text, but he answers the phone before you can really question it too much. “Hey, _____.”

“Hey, Kino. Did you make it home?”

“Yeah.” 

“Go to your window and look up at my building.”

“…Okay…”

You flicker your bedroom light on and off to catch his attention. “Do you see my room? With the flashing light.”

A quiet chuckle comes across the line. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Now show me where you are.”

A short moment later, you notice one of the windows on the building across the street repeatedly light up and go dark. “Found you!”

“What’s this all about?”

You watch as his silhouette reappears in the window. “You didn’t get to ask me your question. I wanted to know what it was.”

“Oh.” He drags his hand through his hair. “So, I haven’t told you yet, but a piece that I choreographed is going to be performed at the Dance Department Showcase.”

“What? Kino, that’s amazing!” It’s not easy to get work presented at a department-wide showcase, so you know that it’s a huge accomplishment for him. “I’m so proud of you. Oh my gosh, that’s so cool.”

“Thank you! Thank you.” Kino laughs, pleased at your reaction. “So… the showcase is this Saturday night and I’m freaking out. I’m not performing, but I’m still incredibly nervous because it’s like… this project, this baby of mine… it’s being put on display and it’s going to be critically watched by all of my peers and professors. It’s just such a big deal.”

“Can I come?” The question eagerly bursts out of you. You would absolutely love to see what he’s capable of choreographing. If it’s anything like his dancing and singing, you know it’ll be awesome. But then you realize that he’s already freaking out about the people in the audience… maybe you shouldn’t add to that stress. “Actually, would that make it worse? I don’t want to stress you out more by being there.”

“No, no, not at all. That’s actually why I brought it up. I want you to come with me.”

You lean against your window, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I would be honored to go with you.”

He exhales deeply. “I think I’m going to feel much better with you there. Thank you.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

“Exactly.” Kino’s hand comes to rest on the glass, like he’s reaching out to you. “I’ll see you Saturday, then. Well, and probably before then, too.”

You touch your window, too. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, _____.”

“Night, Kino.”

* * *

Your class with Professor Yang has officially moved over to the woodshop, now that your midterms are done. He had gone over standard dress code the week before (no loose, drapey clothing or open-toed shoes), but you hadn’t realized that he would be dressed differently as well.

Up until this point, you’ve only seen him in dress slacks and button-downs. But now that he’s teaching a woodworking class, he’s dressed  _way_  more casually than you expected. It makes sense that he would dress down, but it still surprises you to see him in jeans and a fitted t-shirt. His hair is swooped up and back, exposing his forehead and keeping his hair out of his eyes. 

It would be great if you could go a day without drooling over him. Seriously.

Professor Yang goes over the basics of the woodshop with everyone, explaining some of the general tools you’ll all use regardless of instrument. You’ve never used any sort of woodworking tools before, and it makes you a little nervous to think that you’ll be responsible for keeping your fingers intact while sawing away at the body of your dulcimer, but you know he’s there to help if you’re struggling (or injured).  

If nothing else, you and Shinhye can struggle together.

Beside you, Shinhye observes the slab of wood that is to be the neck of her cigar-box banjo. Her calculations are all finished and she knows exactly how far apart to mark each fret along the neck, but she hesitates. “I don’t know man, I’m going to fuck this up for sure.”

“Look, all you have to do is mark it with pencil, and then Professor Yang will come to check your work. Just don’t make any cuts into the wood without his approval and you’ll be fine.” You start marking up the wood that you’ve been given, confident in your math.

As you measure and make your marks, your ears tune in to the music Professor Yang plays throughout the workshop. He’s playing an old rock station, to be expected, and you perk up when a certain Aerosmith song comes on.

A smile grows on your face as Steven Tyler starts singing, and you remember when you sang “Dream On” in Professor Yang’s office.

You glance up to the front of the room to find Professor Yang looking right at you with a stupid grin on his dumb little face.

Oh, he remembers, too.

You struggle to hide your laughter as he breaks into a huge smile. What a loon you are.

“What are you giggling about?” Shinhye questions, still concentrated way too hard on her little pencil marks.

You’re about to respond with a simple  _nothing_ , but then she tucks her short hair behind her ear, revealing a purplish mark just under her jaw. “Oh my  _God_ , Shinhye, is that a hickey?”

She looks up at you like a deer in headlights, quickly ruffling her hair out with her fingers. “You didn’t see that.” **  
**

“What the hell do you mean? Of course I fucking saw that.” With a shit-eating grin, you lean in close. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hooking up with someone? I need to know these things!”

“It’s not important! I don’t want to talk about it.”

“ _Dude_. Fine. I’ll give you a pass since we’re in class right now but you need to dish later.” Shinhye looks disgruntled at your demand, and you try to make her feel better about the whole situation. “Look, I’m proud of you. I never thought this day would come and I just want to know what happened! This is kind of a big deal.”

“It’s really not.” She rolls her eyes. **  
**

A third voice joins the conversation. “How are we doing over here?” Professor Yang stands next to Shinhye, looking over her work.

“Oh, perfect timing. I think I’m just about done. Can you check my marks?” Shinhye hands over her wood, seemingly grateful for the change of topic.

He takes a moment to check her math, but not her measurements. “Your math is good, so as long as you measured according to your numbers you’ll be good to go.”

You don’t even have to ask - he immediately picks up your scrap paper to check your math, too. It astounds you that he doesn’t feel the need to pick up a calculator, as if he could do all of the calculations in his head.

“Your math looks good, too.” He sets your paper down. “Go ahead and put your frets in.”

You cock your head, still surprised that he could be so good at math. “You can do all that math without a calculator?”

“I do have a Bachelor’s  _and_  a Master’s degree in Mathematics, so believe it or not, I don’t really need a calculator.” His voice is touched with sass, as if to say  _I’m your teacher and I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you_.

But you can’t help the question. This man has not one but  _two_  math degrees, and he still fucked up your grades? The probability of that being an accident is practically zero - as you’re sure Mr. Math Wiz would agree.

So it must have been intentional. No matter how much he denies it. **  
**

It doesn’t seem like he was doing it to punish you, though. It doesn’t seem to have any purpose besides getting your attention.

Getting you into his office.

Getting you one-on-one.

And he succeeded - you sat in his office with him for a solid half hour as he re-graded your papers and chatted. He hadn’t tried to make a move or anything, so why did he want that alone time with you?

Could it be as innocent as just wanting to spend time together?

 _It doesn’t matter,_  you remind yourself.  _I’m getting over him. He doesn’t want anything from me, and I don’t want anything from him. The past is the past and I’m moving on._

You avoid his gaze for the rest of class.

* * *

Wooseok sits next to you in the practice room, working diligently on the exercises you’ve given him regarding figured bass. Overall, not at all an important concept for him as a drummer, but it’s definitely going to be on his final and he needs to know it for the sake of his grade.

You don’t know if it’s just because the nature of your relationship has changed, but you’ve felt so distracted through the whole session by how cute he looks. His hair is ruffled and he’s not wearing anything different than what he usually wears, but he just looks so damn  _attractive_.

You know you shouldn’t say anything. You should let him work like the good little tutee he is. But since when do you pay attention to what you should and should not do? **  
**

“I think tutoring you is going to become increasingly more difficult.”

He pauses, his pencil still in his hand as he meets your gaze. “Why’s that? Because of the material? I feel like I’m actually doing pretty well.”

“No, idiot. Because, well…” Jesus, you never really know what to say in these situations. “Things are different between us now, you know?”

“It’s not that different.”

You can tell by the face he’s making that he’s teasing you. “It is! Don’t make me feel stupid.”

“You’re the one calling me an idiot!”

“It’s a term of endearment.”

“How sweet.” Wooseok shifts in his seat, turning towards you and placing his arm across the back of your chair. “So you’re flirting with me?”

“That may or may not be true.”

His fingers brush gently over your shoulder as he silently watches you, letting the air between you thicken with the thought that it would be so easy to close the gap.

Really, there’s nothing stopping you anyway.

“Wooseok… Have you done something like this before?” You ask before you convince yourself to cross the threshold. “Being friends with benefits and all of that?”

“No, actually.” Wooseok’s fingers reach your collar bone, delicately tracing the peaks and valleys. “I don’t have much experience with girls. I had a girlfriend in high school, but that’s it.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Dating’s not my priority.”

“Is this something you want, though?”

“Well yeah. I probably said it when I was drunk, but you’re really cool and you’re hot, so of course I’m down. This is totally different from dating.” He tilts his head minutely. “Have  _you_  done this before?”

Almost instantly, an image of Professor Yang flashes in your mind. “Not technically a friends with benefits situation, but I have hooked up before.” **  
**

“How’d it go? Were you okay with keeping it casual?”

Big fat fucking  _no_ , you were not okay with keeping it casual. Well, maybe you would have been if he hadn’t turned out to be your teacher. Things might have been so different. But the fact of the matter is that you’ve been an absolute wreck for the last two months because of your failure to keep it casual.

You’re fully aware of the fact that you should be honest about your hookup history. You should tell Wooseok that you most  _definitely_  caught feelings the last time you hooked up. It’s your duty to stop this trainwreck before it happens.

But… that means that you wouldn’t be able to hookup with Wooseok. And you  _really_  want to hookup with Wooseok right now.

“Yeah, it was totally fine,” you lie through your teeth. “No problems at all.” **  
**

“Cool.” He reaches out to cup your face. “Let’s stop talking about it then.”

As if they have always belonged together, your lips meet his. The kiss is sweet and gentle, and his hand is warm on your cheek. It feels so,  _so_  good to give in to your urges, to do what you want instead of overthinking. A friends-with-benefits situation is exactly what you need.

You don’t stay in your chair much longer as you continue to kiss. His lap is a much more appealing seat. Without pulling away from his lips, you get up and straddle him, your hands sliding behind his neck.  **  
**

Wooseok’s teeth bite down on your lip and his large hands are quick to venture into less innocent territory. His fingers slip down your sides and into the back pockets of your jeans, cupping your ass and giving a gentle squeeze. You roll your hips to show him that you’re pleased, and he lets out the quietest groan.

“Be careful moving your hips like that,” he warns against your lips, “or you’re signing yourself up for a whole lot of trouble.”

You smirk and roll your hips again as you say, “Maybe I want trouble.”

He responds by claiming your lips, his tongue diving deep into the cavern of your mouth as his fingers dig hard into your ass cheeks. 

You feel so alive. And so blissful - especially as you feel him start to harden through his jeans. The extra friction provided by rubbing against his thickness is absolutely delicious, and you shamelessly grind against him.

It’s clear that Wooseok is enjoying himself, too. He kisses you deeply as you grind, and his hand sneaks under your shirt, pushing your bra out of the way so that he can pinch and rub your nipple. 

You moan for him, careful to stay quiet - the sound proofing in the practice rooms isn’t perfect, after all. But you sigh and groan to let him know that you feel amazing and you love everything he’s doing to you. You would be totally content to just stay like this for the rest of your session, and it doesn’t seem like Wooseok would mind.

Unfortunately, though, you know this can’t last forever - you have to leave soon for your piano lesson. But he’s just such a good kisser… **  
**

You’re not sure what causes it, but suddenly the mood changes. His hurried kisses and touches melt into something much softer. Wooseok’s hand migrates to the small of your back, pulling you in close and embracing you as he kisses you.

It’s mind-numbingly sweet, and you hold him tight, too.

With one last kiss, you part, but you rest your forehead on his as you catch your breath and try to process how he could be such a phenomenal kisser.

“What are you doing after this?” Wooseok asks, his voice low - and you know exactly why he’s asking.

“Piano lesson,” you huff quietly.

“Skip it.” Kiss. “Come back to my place.”

“Ugh, I wish. But I can’t. My lessons are important.” Your fingers glide through his soft hair, your gaze connecting with his sweet eyes. “What about tonight?”

Wooseok shakes his head as his fingers drum a rhythm against your spine. “Minho’s having some guys over. Tomorrow?”

“Girl’s night with my roommate.” You sigh. Who knew it would be so difficult to find time to hook up?

“I’m pretty sure Minho said he was going out of town this weekend, so we’d definitely have the place to ourselves.”

That sounds like a blessedly perfect scenario. “I have a thing with Kino on Saturday, but I could come over later that night?”

“Stellar. I’ll make sure Minho is out of the apartment.” Wooseok presses another kiss to your lips before helping you stand up. “You should probably get going though, since you have your lesson. Right?”

You glance at the clock on the wall and realize you have exactly thirty seconds to get downstairs. “Shit. Yeah, I have to run.”

Wooseok helps you gather your things. “I’ll see you Saturday night then?”

You hoist your backpack onto your shoulder and run a finger down Wooseok’s torso. “You bet.”

* * *

“Remind me why we’re doing this,” you grumble as you follow Nailah and Shinhye through the gym locker room on Saturday morning. Being physically active has never been your favorite thing, yet Nailah has managed to drag you along.

“Cute boy. You love cute boys, don’t you?” Nailah turns, tucking you under her arm and leading you over to the row of lockers. “This is all for you, baby.”

“But whyyyyy…”

“_____, exercising is good for you.” Shinhye tries to boost your morale as you each claim a locker, tossing your gym bags but keeping your water bottles in hand. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Since when have you become such a gym rat? Little Miss I-Live-On-The-Couch.” You tease her. She never seems to be interested in working out, but she looks like a total natural in her mid-calf leggings and moisture-wicking tank top.

She shrugs, touching the outer rim of her glasses to push them further up her nose. “I don’t know, I just go when Nailah invites me. And I think it’s actually pretty fun.”

“Yeah, Shinhye’s a great gym partner. She doesn’t complain.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring Nailah. “So have you seen this cute guy, then? Is it worth the effort?”

Shinhye shakes her head. “We’ve never seen him when I come along.”

“Okay, hold on.” You close your locker, realizing that this mystery cutie hasn’t been spotted in quite some time. “Are you telling me that it has probably been, like, a month and a half since you last saw him? Does he even go to this gym anymore?”

Nailah sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t know, _____. But we’re here now, so we may as well sweat a little.” She lifts her shirt up over her head, so she’s just in her spandex shorts and a sports bra. The shirt gets tossed into her locker and she holds out her hand to you. “Give me your shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it. We’re gonna go out there looking hot so you can seduce cute guy.”

“He’s probably not even out there!”

“Come on. It’s not even a big deal.” She gestures for you to hand her your shirt, and you begrudgingly do as she asks. 

“What about you, Shinhye?” You ask as your shirt disappears into Nailah’s locker.

Her face reddens. “Isn’t it weird to just wear a bra?”

“Not at all,” Nailah reassures her, closing her locker and patting Shinhye on the head as she walks away. “But don’t worry, my little Shinhye doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

You notice Shinhye’s eyes grow wide and her blush deepen, and look at her quizzically. What the hell is that reaction all about? She just avoids your gaze and tails after Nailah.

As you follow them into the equipment room, you try not to feel embarrassed about your lack of shirt. It’s not that unusual for a girl to work out in just her bra and shorts, but you don’t feel particularly confident since you are bound to make a fool out of yourself on the machines, anyway.

The three of you head for the stationary bikes on the opposite side of the room, scoping out all of the other gym-goers along the way. When you reach the bikes, Nailah turns on her heel and pulls you and Shinhye in close.

“Don’t make it obvious, but he’s here. He’s at the bench press.”

What are the odds that he would actually be here today? You take a swig from your water bottle before setting it next to one of the bikes and casually turning around to try to spot him.

Shinhye finds him first. “Oh my God.  _Him_?” She bursts into laughter. “Nailah, you don’t know who that is, do you?”

“Should I?” **  
**

“He teaches at our school! _____ and I are both in his class!”

“ _What_?!” You and Nailah respond simultaneously, both for different reasons. Is it really him?

Your eyes scan over the weight machines, and just as you spot the row of bench presses, he sits up and wipes the sweat from his brow with a hand towel. **  
**

Fucking Professor Yang is sitting halfway across the room, biceps bulging, a delicious V of sweat forming on the chest of his muscle shirt.

God, you wish you could just melt into a puddle and disappear from this world.

“No way.” Nailah chuckles. “He’s a Professor? Oh, this is gold.”

Shinhye starts giggling, too. “Yeah, and _____ totally has a crush on him. You should have seen them in class this week.”

“Well just look at her now.”

You finally snap out of your trance. “I do not!”

“No shame, girl.” Nailah smirks as she settles onto a bike. “We’ve all had an innocent crush on a teacher before.”

Oh, if only she knew how  _not_  innocent this was.

“Yeah, no shame.” Shinhye chimes, climbing onto the bike next to Nailah. **  
**

“Whatever. Shouldn’t we stretch first?” You quickly change the subject. You’re going to spend the rest of this hour pretending like the world’s most handsome professor isn’t over there keeping up his gorgeous physique with which you are unfortunately quite familiar.

“It’s bad to stretch cold, so we do an easy five-minute ride just to get things warmed up a bit.” Nailah states.

“Alright, then.” 

So you bike, stretch, and tackle a few machines - and you’re incredibly aware of the fact that Nailah’s routine is strategically getting you closer and closer to wherever Professor Yang is stationed. 

You trail along behind her from machine to machine, and next thing you know you’re headed straight for him.

As the three of you approach, you hope and pray that he doesn’t notice you. And when you look over, you’re blessed. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, but you’re too distracted by his abs to be grateful for his blocked view of you.

Professor Yang is absolutely chiseled under his muscle shirt, and you shouldn’t even be surprised. You’ve seen him shirtless before, you’ve felt the ripples of his muscles, but you’re still taken off guard by the body that hides beneath his clothes.

The glimpse of his abs is so distracting that you actually forget how you’re supposed to act around him. He drops his shirt and looks up just as you’re passing him, and you unintentionally flash him a coy smile. When his eyes widen as he recognizes you, you realize that you do  _not_  want to try to look cute right now. 

Well, you want to, but you shouldn’t.

Somehow that doesn’t stop you.

Professor Yang’s eyes travel down your body, taking in your shirtless state. But you don’t feel shy or nervous - you feel weirdly confident, and you walk with a little extra sass in the swing of your hips. You hope with all of your might that he’s as flustered by the sight of you as you always are by him. 

If your appearance gets to him at all, he certainly doesn’t make it known. Without any hint of what he might be feeling, he gets up and moves to a different machine farther down the row, and he doesn’t look back at you again.

Thankfully, it seems that Nailah and Shinhye did not notice anything that just happened, but you feel suddenly embarrassed about strutting past him the way you did. You need to step out for a second and collect yourself.

“I’m going to grab some more water.” You hold up your mostly empty water bottle for the two girls to see and tear off before either one of them can offer to come along.

That was so dumb. Why did you react that way when he saw you? You know better. You should be avoiding him at all costs, because  _you’re getting over him_. You’ve got Wooseok to keep you entertained now, so you can finally let go of Professor Yang.

He just looked so good… and you want the confidence boost of knowing he thinks you look good, too.

But the thing is, though, you know that he thinks you look good. He’s made it kind of obvious throughout the semester that he’s still attracted to you, so you’re  _positive_  that he must have felt something when he saw you in your tight leggings and sports bra. He’s just really good at masking it.

You fill up your bottle and take a sip from it as you turn around, and you accidentally bump into a warm, solid body that immediately fills you with dread. **  
**

“_____.”

You’re surprised by the face you see when you look up - this is not the human you were expecting. “Yuto?”

He has a black bandana rolled up and tied across his forehead, and honestly it’s a  _look_. Yuto hardly gives you so much as a smile before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, gently pushing you aside so he can access the water fountain.

“I didn’t know you worked out here.” **  
**

He stands upright after taking a leisurely drink, looking you up and down. “I didn’t know you worked out. Wouldn’t have guessed it.”

“Don’t be rude, asshole.” You huff, stalking off towards the weight room. You don’t need to deal with him if he’s going to be a jerk.

“Hey, wait.” Yuto catches up to you, matching your stride. “I just meant that I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah. Roommate dragged me along.”

“Nailah, right?” He points off to the left, and your eyes follow to that part of the room. Nailah’s hands rest on Shinhye’s hips, guiding your friend into the correct form for squats. You frown, worried about what that could mean.

If she’s starting to crush on Shinhye, she really needs to cut it out before she gets herself hurt. Shinhye’s straight - she’s not going to reciprocate any of Nailah’s feelings. And really, Nailah needs to make sure she’s not making Shinhye uncomfortable by being too forward with her flirting.

“That’s her.” You can’t help your frown as you beeline for them. 

“Wait, wait.” Yuto grabs your arm. “I need to talk to you.”

Surprised, you pause. “What about?”

“Wooseok.”

Your frown deepens. Does he know about your agreement? “What about Wooseok?”

“Be careful with him. He’s a kid.”

“We’re the same age…? What are you getting at?”

“He’s naive, okay?” Yuto looks frustrated that you don’t understand what he’s trying to say. “Just try not to hurt him. He’s a lot more delicate than he seems. He told me about you two, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s none of your business what we decide to do.” You scoff. “But yeah, okay, I’m the Big Bad Meanie here so I’ll be ‘gentle’ or whatever.”

Yuto’s voice noticeably softens when he realizes you’re upset. “_____…”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.” You brush off his hand. “Have a good workout.”

You stomp back over to your friends, and they both watch you quizzically as you approach. 

“What was that all about?” Nailah asks.

“It’s nothing.” Your first instinct is to just dismiss all of it, but these are two of your best friends. They deserve to know at least a little bit of the boy drama in your life - but you don’t want to spill the tea in the middle of the gym. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Shinhye chimes in, “Professor Yang left while you were gone. We thought you might run into him out there.”

“No, I didn’t see him. Just Yuto.”

“Who’s Yuto?” She asks. “The guy you were just talking to?”

Nailah responds for you, nodding. “He’s our neighbor, right across the hall.”

“Oh.” Shinhye chews timidly on the inside of her cheek. “He’s kind of cute, too.”

“Shinhye! I didn’t know you liked dark, brooding boys.” Nailah reaches out to smooth Shinhye’s hair, and Shinhye blushes.

“Apparently you really don’t know her type, Nailah.” There’s a slight edge to your voice as you say it. It’s just so weird to see Nailah being so forward with Shinhye, and you feel the need to stop it. Shinhye isn’t particularly vocal, so she probably won’t say anything if she’s feeling uncomfortable.

Seems like you’ll have to have a chat with Nailah later.

* * *

Kino meets you in your dorm’s lobby at exactly 6:15pm. Doors open for the dance department showcase in fifteen minutes, and you can sense the energy bubbling out of him when he arrives.

“Hi.” He bounces slightly, standing still for a moment before pulling you into a hug.

“Hi,” you echo, a small smile spreading across your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. Oh my  _God_ , I’m nervous. But let’s not talk about that because I’ll literally die before the show.”

“My CPR skills aren’t exactly stellar, so I guess we should probably do what we can to keep you alive before that becomes necessary.” **  
**

“Good call.” He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the building and into the brisk night air. “You look really nice, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You look down at yourself, taking a second to button up your jacket over the burgundy dress and black tights you’ve chosen for the evening. Your heels click along the sidewalk as you walk, and then you realize how Kino is dressed; his burgundy pants didn’t immediately draw your attention, but you have to laugh at the coincidence now that you’ve noticed. “Oh my God, are we actually matching?”

Kino nods, laughing. “Yeah, we are.”

So this is what it feels like to wear a couple’s outfit… Obviously you’re not a couple, but it’s still kind of cute that you’ve got similar tastes in clothes.

Kino is oddly quiet as you make your way towards the theater, and you know it’s just because of his nerves. You speak up to try to distract him. “Is your family coming tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t invite them.”

“Oh.” That surprises you. “Why not? This is a big deal. I’m sure they’d love to be here.”

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now.” Kino frowns slightly, clearly bothered by the topic.

Has something happened? He never really talks about his family, so you don’t know what his relationship with them is like. 

Wait - he  _has_  talked about them before. You remember the first night you talked to him after R&B Ensemble practice, when you both bonded over your unsupportive parents. How could you be careless enough to forget something like that? Are you really that distracted by your own life?

“I’m sorry, Kino. I shouldn’t have brought that up.” You link your arm with his. “I’m here to support you no matter what.” **  
**

“Thanks, _____.” He smiles slightly. “And no worries. It’s fine.”

To keep the mood light, you chat with him about your excursion to the gym this morning, leaving out the parts about Professor Yang, of course. Mostly, you just complain about how you have to use the baby weights because everything else is too heavy.

Thankfully you can keep him chuckling until you’re seated in the theater and the lights go down, signaling the start of the show. That’s when the terror sets in - Kino takes a deep, nervous breath, and his leg bounces wildly as the first performers step on stage. His piece isn’t until a little later on in the show, but you know he’s going to feel anxious until then.

Normally it doesn’t bother you when someone else bounces their leg, but his movement shakes your chair and you don’t want to sit through the whole show like that. Without even thinking about it, you place your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently to grab his attention. His movement stalls and he stares at you wide-eyed.

You lean in so he can hear you whisper over the music. “It’s gonna be great, okay? Everyone’s going to love your piece.”

Kino’s gaze flits between your eyes, and it occurs to you just how close your faces are. Then his hand covers yours, and he smiles. “I was right to bring you along.”

His attention returns to the stage and he seems much calmer now, but you struggle to focus on the dancers. Your whole consciousness is alert to the fact that his hand is so warm and secure around yours, and for some reason that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster.

All rational thought goes out the window. When the first performance ends, you don’t want to let his hand go. Kino notices the way you cling to his hand when he tries to let go to clap, and he gives you a funny look - not one of judgment, but one of curiosity.

You’re immediately embarrassed, so you let go and hurriedly clap before the applause ends. 

It’s fine. You’re just friends. Friends can hold hands. It’s seriously not a big deal - worst case scenario, Kino’s just going to tease you a little bit after the showcase. You do your best to shake it off.

But then the applause ends, and Kino places his hand on your lap, palm up. It’s an invitation, and his smile makes it so that you cannot refuse. You interlace your fingers with his, your heart beating happily in your chest.

You don’t know what it means, or if it even means anything. But you’ll sort it out later.

That becomes your routine, your hands letting go only to clap between pieces and then quickly returning to each other. It feels foreign yet completely comfortable, exciting yet confusing. 

And then he squeezes your hand tightly and leans over, whispering in your ear, “This one is mine.”

For just a brief second you think he’s talking about your hand, but then you realize that he means his piece is next. Your cheeks flush because of the way you misunderstood him, but you pretend that didn’t just happen and whisper back, “I can’t wait.”

A delicate piano melody guides the two male dancers on stage, but it isn’t until the lyrics kick in that you realize just how mournful the performance is going to be.

“ _Don’t know where I am with you_  
Forgetting time and space with you  
Oh I wish we had a common view  
You see my red as blue  
I don’t belong in your universe  
For better or for worse…”

The dancers move fluidly across the stage, embodying the story of two people - maybe lovers, maybe friends - who want to be together despite the invisible force that’s keeping them apart.

“ _I’m the same but I’m bolder_  
You get home, but I’m on my way out now  
Not the same destinations  
I will stay when you get off the train…”

No, they don’t want to be together. It’s not mutual - you see that now, how one dancer is caught in the other dancer’s world and he is trying to break free. Is this an abusive relationship?

“ _You’re safe as a mountain_  
But know that I am dynamite  
Oh, oh, you’re safe as a mountain  
But know that I am dynamite…”

The pieces come together, and it suddenly makes sense. Maybe you’re making a huge assumption, but you can’t help but think that this is the story of Kino’s relationship with his family. **  
**

It moves you to tears, and you struggle to keep your composure. It feels like you’re watching a little piece of Kino’s soul through these dancers, and it’s devastating to think that someone as sweet and gentle as Kino would ever be caught in such a terrible situation. He deserves so much better than that. He deserves a family that loves him.

When the performance ends the whole audience applauds, but you can only look at Kino as he wipes away his tears, a melancholy smile on his lips. 

* * *

Kino walks you back to your dorm, and you stop just outside the front door. You haven’t said much since the performance because he was immediately bombarded by other students and professors coming up to congratulate him. But now, you finally have his undivided attention.

“Your piece was absolutely beautiful,” you gently praise him. “I think you’re incredibly talented to draw that much emotion out of the audience. Seriously, it was incredible.”

“Thank you.” He looks down, his soft voice accompanied by a shy smile. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you came with me tonight. Thank you so much for being there to support me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Kino.” You pull him in for a hug, feeling proud of him and also feeling much closer to him than you were before. 

When you pull away, he asks, “Do you want to maybe come over for a little bit? Just to hang out?”

That would be nice, but you remember your plans with Wooseok. For some reason, though, it doesn’t feel right to tell Kino about that. “Ah, I can’t. I told Nailah I’d spend time with her tonight.”

You immediately feel guilty about the lie, but Kino isn’t bothered by your excuse. “Have fun with her, then.”

He reaches out, his hand gliding down your forearm until his fingers interlace with yours. You look down at your intertwined hands, your pulse quickening just as it did in the theater. You’re not sure why you react that way. And then you feel the soft press of lips on your forehead.

Did…? Did Kino just…?

You look up at him, shocked. He had just kissed you. What was that all about?

His eyes scan your face, the sweetest, gentlest smile on his lips. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You nod, still kind of confused and surprised by what just happened. But he walks off before you can really process it, and you just stand there like an idiot for a minute or two.

Reading into it is probably the worst thing you could do. Kino is a touchy guy, so it shouldn’t seem unusual for him to kiss you on the forehead. It’s just a sweet, friendly gesture, right? He probably doesn’t mean anything by it, so you shouldn’t assume he does.

The last thing you want is to make things weird. He’s a great friend, and you don’t want to lose him. So you’re not going to make a big deal out of this.

Desperate for a distraction, you pull your phone out as you head inside. A few texts from Wooseok are waiting for you, just as you had expected.

Wooseok (8:13pm): Still want to come over?

Wooseok (8:13pm): Minho just left and won’t be back until tomorrow

You respond.

You (9:02pm): Of course. Just got back. Give me 10 to freshen up and I’ll be over.

Wooseok (9:02pm): I’ll give you 5

You (9:03pm): 7?

Wooseok (9:03pm): 6.5 starting now. 

Wooseok (9:04pm): see u soon, short stuff 😘

* * *

You make it to his place in exactly seven minutes because you’re a glutton for punishment, but you think you’ve devised a plan to help you earn back his favor.

“You’re late.” He greets you at the door to his apartment.

“But I brought a gift.” You try your best to look cute as you hide the small ‘present’ behind your back. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

He looks suspicious, but he smiles slightly as he does what you ask. Into his large palms, you place the panties you’ve been wearing all day. If Minseo has taught you anything, it’s that men go crazy for a girl in a dress with nothing on underneath.

“You said you wanted to keep them, so these are for you.”

Wooseok’s eyes shoot open as he realizes it’s silky, lacy fabric puddled in his hands. He looks at them with a sly smile. “Are you wearing any right now?”

You just smile coyly and shake your head. Success.

“Christ, woman, get in here.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, letting the door slam shut behind you. You don’t even have time to kick off your shoes before he picks you up, your legs naturally wrapping around his hips to hold yourself up.

Wooseok’s lips crash into yours like he can’t stand the thought of waiting one more second. He’s way too eager, but you could never complain. You love feeling so wanted.

He presses you against the wall and you lace your fingers into his hair, tugging gently as you bite his lower lip. A deep growl vibrates in his throat, and it immediately shoots pleasure straight to your core.

You let yourself moan as you feverishly return every kiss he offers. You just can’t get enough of him, and it’s making you crazy. 

For just a second you pull away, but only because you need more. “Bedroom?” you pant.

Wooseok nods and carries you deeper into the apartment, throwing open the door to the bedroom and dropping you onto the bed.

“Hey! I’m not a doll!” You lecture him, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. “Don’t toss me around like that.”

Wooseok just ignores you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” His long fingers immediately find the buttons of your jacket, fiddling with one after the other until he pulls it off of you.

“It’s freezing outside! What did you expect? That I’d run across the street without a jacket on just so it would be easier for you to strip me? It’s bad enough that I came over without my tights on.”

“I mean… You probably would have gotten here when I asked you to if you hadn’t stopped to put a jacket on.” Wooseok runs his fingers over your bare thighs. “But next time, keep the tights on. They’re hot.”

“You’d like that?”

“Yeah, but you’re hot like this, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “You’d be hotter with your shirt off, if it counts for anything.”

“Sassy,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. Still hovering over you, he grabs the back of his collar and easily pulls the t-shirt over his head.

You’re right - you definitely like him better without the shirt. His torso and arms are nicely toned, and he just looks so  _good_. Even his face is somehow more attractive than it’s ever been, and you know you’ve made the right choice in coming over here tonight.

You touch his cheek, and you can sense the depth behind his irises as his eyes scan your face. He’s fully present, and you just want to live in this moment with him. **  
**

“Why do you have to look at me like that?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know, you’re just fucking cute.” Wooseok dives in, laying you back onto the bed as his lips connect with yours. His hand starts at your neck and runs down over your arm before transferring to your hip, his kiss overwhelming your senses. Everything about him feels so good, so nice.

As you wrap your limbs around him, you remember what Yuto said to you at the gym this morning.

_Be gentle with him._

_Try not to hurt him._

Even though it’s none of Yuto’s business, you can’t help but keep his warnings in mind. The last thing you want to do is hurt Wooseok. This is all supposed to be harmless fun, after all.

You press a hand to his chest, silently asking him to stop kissing you.

“You good?” Wooseok asks, concerned.

“Yeah! I just wanted to make sure… You’re totally cool with this, right? Like, with us just being friends and doing this for fun? This isn’t going to make anything weird, right?”

Wooseok shrugs calmly. “Yeah, it’s cool with me. I don’t mind it at all and I promise I won’t get weird around you. You cool?”

You nod. “I’m cool with it. I just needed to know we were still on the same page. I, um, ran into Yuto today…”

“Shit, did he say something?”

“He told me to be careful with you. Like he thought I was going to break your heart or something.” You search his eyes. “Also, not cool that you told him about us. I thought this was going to be a private thing.”

Wooseok closes his eyes, sighing quietly. “I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. He’s my best friend and I tell him everything. I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t go telling the rest of the school, okay?” You chuckle quietly, not quite realizing how much you sound like a certain Professor asking someone to keep things a secret.

“I won’t breathe a word of it to anybody else. I promise.” He smiles. “And don’t worry, I’m not gonna catch feelings.”

“Okay, I’m going to trust you on that. But if either one of us starts to feel something, we have to be honest and stop. Deal?”

“Deal. But, not gonna happen. You can’t lock me down, woman.”

You roll your eyes. “You can lock me down, tie me up, whatever you’re into…”

Wooseok lowers himself onto you again with a devilish grin. “You’re bad.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Probably just get you naked and plow you into tomorrow.”

Laughter bursts from you and you can’t control yourself. “Did you really just say that?”

He laughs too, never one to take himself too seriously. “Yeah, I think I did. That was pretty awful.”

You slide your fingers into his hair and pull him down to you, crashing your lips together now that your concerns are alleviated. Your body is already aching for release and you’ve hardly even started.

Wooseok’s large hands roam your body, gliding over your curves and massaging your chest. Your fingers trail down his back and the groan he emits is absolutely precious. It feels like it has been ages since you’ve gotten laid and suddenly you’re starving for it.

Every kiss fuels the fire burning deep within you, your core throbbing with want. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you wiggle your hips in search of some sort of friction. 

Wooseok gets the message loud and clear. His hand glides under the skirt of your dress in search of your folds, which are already delightfully wet by the time he reaches them. Even though you’re more than ready, he teases you, taking his time to caress your most sensitive spot. 

A quiet moan escapes you, and you reach down between your bodies in search of his length. You just have to know what it feels like, what kind of fun you should expect for the rest of the night.

Your fingers brush over the front of his jeans until you find an unmistakable bulge, and he sighs deeply as you pass over it. The sound is actually really hot, and you know instantly that you need to get him naked. 

“Take off your pants,” you murmur against his lips, your fingers already working to unfasten his jeans. You get the button and zipper of his pants undone, and he steps out of his pants and boxers all at once.

Seeing Wooseok naked is both weird and thrilling, and you realize how incredibly sober you are. The last time you were here in his apartment, you were both a little drunk. But this time you’re not inebriated in the least bit.

You definitely don’t need any alcohol to be convinced that you should have sex with this man right the fuck now.

“Condom?” You seriously hope that he has some, because you definitely didn’t think to bring one over.

“Yeah, hold up.” He opens the top drawer of his dresser and pulls out a rubber from his stash.

You pull him back down onto the bed as soon as he’s within reach, and he chuckles at your eagerness. You climb on top of him, kissing him passionately and wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“I don’t want to wait,” you whine as you stroke him. He’s already incredibly hard, and he’s just the perfect size for you. Usually you would insist that foreplay is a good idea, but you are way too impatient at the moment. “I want you inside of me.”

“Then stop waiting.”

Wooseok tears open the condom packet and rolls it on, and you lift yourself up, lining him up with your entrance. 

You let out a slightly strained breath as you slide down onto him, your walls stretching around his girth as you finally fill yourself with his cock. You unfortunately have to take it easy since you completely skipped the foreplay bit, but you slowly rock your hips, indulging in every bit of pleasure even the smallest movements bring you.

Eventually you’re able to increase your speed, and you lean back, helping his cock hit just the right spot inside of you, the spot that you know will leave you blinded with ecstasy. 

You don’t even realize that you’re still in your dress until Wooseok’s hand pushes your skirt back, bunching it at your hip as you ride him. “Lemme see.”

He fixates on the place where your bodies connect, his gaze full of lust. The sight of him beneath you only serves to turn you on more, and it only gets more perfect when his thumb grazes over your clit.

“Oh my God, yes,” you murmur, placing a hand behind you to hold yourself up as you lean back more. Between Wooseok’s touch and the angle of his cock, you felt yourself very quickly becoming unraveled.

Wooseok’s fingers dig into your hip, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of you. Your walls contract tightly around him as you work yourself up, entirely obsessed with the beautiful pleasure pulsing through you. 

“I’m… so close…” You moan for him. “Please, keep going. Don’t change a thing.”

He groans softly. “Already, baby?”

“It feels good,” your voice is absolutely blissful. “Count down from five. Slowly.”

It’s something you like to do when you masturbate - you’ve practiced orgasming on demand because there’s something you absolutely love about forcing yourself to hold off right when you’re ready to explode.

Wooseok doesn’t question. He just keeps rubbing circles into your clit, and he counts. “Five.”

Your chest is already growing warm, your abdomen tight. 

“Four.”

You force yourself to take deep breaths, but they’re littered with moans.

“Three.”

Your pussy swells with pleasure, hot and electric.

“Two.”

“Fuck!” You can barely keep yourself together. “Please please please…”

“One, baby-”

“Oh!” 

You don’t just explode - you burst like a fucking broken dam. Ecstasy overwhelms you as you unintentionally squirt all over Wooseok’s stomach. You’re an absolute gushing mess for him, but you’re too caught up in your pleasure to care. Your whole body feels bathed in sunshine and you’re convinced there is no better feeling than this.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” **  
**

You’re brought back to reality when Wooseok finally speaks up. He looks absolutely shocked by what just happened, and you realize that you didn’t give him any sort of warning that you might soak him.

Panicked, you apologize. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot.”

Wooseok sits up and pulls you to him, kissing you more roughly than ever. You eagerly return each kiss, grateful that he’s not upset like you originally thought. 

“Wooseok,” you smile against his lips at what you’re about to say. “I think now’s the time to get me naked and plow me into tomorrow.”

He laughs loudly, and his smile is adorable. “Hell yeah.”

In no time, your dress is on the floor and Wooseok has you pinned under him. Per his request you’re lying on your stomach, and he straddles your legs. He nestles his cock between your thighs, pressing into your slit with a pleased groan. 

“Shit, you feel good.” He holds himself up on his forearms, and his lips find your shoulder as he thrusts into you. He starts slow but very quickly picks up the pace until you’re both panting.

You lift your hips as much as you can to meet him, your fingers deftly working your clit. A second orgasm is definitely feasible at this rate, but you’re not going to try to force it.

Wooseok leaves a trail of bites and sucks from your shoulder up your neck until he reaches your ear. He sucks your earlobe into his mouth, biting and toying with your earring as he pounds into you. The sensation drives you wild, and very suddenly you crash into another orgasm.

A weird half-squeak, half-moan comes out of you as you dissolve beneath him, and you hear a strange series of noises come from Wooseok, too. He starts to laugh, but it’s strained and broken up by strangled, awkward moans as he finishes - then he collapses on top of you, shaking with laughter.

You know he’s definitely laughing at the sound you made, and you’re definitely laughing at the way he just laughed through his orgasm. It’s just such a drastic change of mood, and it’s absolutely endearing the way he clutches onto you as he laughs.

Wooseok is everything you thought he might be in bed, and it doesn’t even phase you that your hookup ended in a less-than-hot circumstance. How could you be bothered when you’re laughing this hard?

Something about the laughter makes his embrace feel exceptionally warm. And you kind of adore that.

You feel lighter than you have in a while, even though you’re sort of being crushed by him.

“Can’t breathe!” You squeal.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, rolling off of you and onto his back. “Hey, whatever the fuck that noise was, it was super cute.”

“I could say the same about your laughing orgasm,” you retort, scooting closer to him to indulge in his warmth.

Wooseok pushes your hair back, his dark chocolate eyes locking with yours. “It’s your fault I laughed through it. I don’t know how the hell your voice even got that high.” 

Just for fun, you try to recreate the noise, reaching as high as you can through your vocal range to pull out the most ridiculous note you’re capable of. You both laugh at your attempt, and then Wooseok gives it a try - and somehow far surpasses whatever pitch you had managed.

His eyes get so wide you think they might just fall out of his head, and you laugh more hysterically than you ever have in your life. It has to be physically impossible for him to screech as high as he just did, but he succeeded!

“Wooseok, what the fuck?”  ****It’s impossible to catch your breath, but you manage to get some words out.

“I don’t even know.” He shakes his head and shrugs, laughing right along with you.

Eventually you’re both able to calm down. Your arm is draped across his chest, and his hand glides up and down your spine in a way that soothes you. The friends-with-benefits line is a little blurred because you’re not sure if cuddling is part of that package, but as per usual you tell yourself that you’ll figure it out later. You’d rather just enjoy yourself.

“_____?” Wooseok gently breathes your name into your hair, and you prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. He’s gorgeous and you don’t know how you didn’t see it before. “I’m glad you came over.”

You don’t think - you just act on instinct. Your fingers glide up to his cheek and you lean down to kiss him. Wooseok’s lips are warm and soft, and the kiss is sensual and provocative and…

And it melts deep into your heart, lighting you up from head to toe.

It stirs up every romantic thought that you know you shouldn’t have about him.

 _Fuck_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.
> 
> Warnings | Cursing. Underage drinking. The usual. Oh, and some fingering.

As much as you don’t really want to confront Professor Yang about your incorrect grade, you know that it’s something you need to take care of. But as if Professor Yang could sense the confrontation coming, he takes off immediately after class ends, quickly packing up his things and hurrying out the door before you can even make it to the front of the room. **  
**

In the back of your mind you can’t help but wonder… is there any chance that all of this is intentional? Did he give you the wrong grade knowing that you would come talk to him about it? Did he leave immediately so that you’d be forced to visit him one-on-one in his office again?

Does he just want to get you alone again?

NOPE. Bad idea. You push that thought as far away as you can, forcing yourself to pause that train of thought. You can’t even let yourself consider the possibility that he might want that. Absolutely not allowed.

If there’s a chance that that’s what he wants, you can’t buy into it. You have to be strong for yourself.

So it’s decided. You are not going to visit him this week. You’re going to let this one go. You’ve received his message, but you’re not going to give him what he wants.

* * *

Wooseok shows up for tutoring late as always, but this time it’s different. You can tell immediately that he’s bothered by something. **  
**

“Hey,” you greet him softly, and he responds with nothing more than a nod. He’s silent as he gets ready for the session, and you don’t push him to talk. You’re assuming that it must be because of the whole party bust, and you also don’t know if you’re good enough friends for him to feel comfortable opening up to you about it.

The session is really difficult for him. He’s clearly not focused, so you call it quits early. You don’t want to push him because he’s only getting more and more frustrated. By the time you’re wrapping up, you feel like you should really try to talk with him about what’s going on - regardless of how close you may or may not be.

“Yuto told me about your extracurricular suspension,” you offer as a starting point.

“Ah, he did?”

“Yeah, at R&B Ensemble. It really sucks.”

“It’s only two more weeks, thank God.” Wooseok throws his folders and pencils into his backpack. “Any longer and I think Typhanie would start looking for a replacement drummer. I’m already putting the rest of the ensemble in a rough spot since we’ve got the showcase coming up next month.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Shit happens, you know? You’re a talented drummer, I’m sure you’ll catch up with the group in no time.”

“You think I’m talented?” Wooseok looks up from the floor, his wide eyes searching yours. Your heart goes out to him - he seems so beaten down.

“Of course,” you reassure him. “You’re so creative when you play, and you’re always spot-on when it comes to tempo. You’re like a living, breathing metronome. It’s insane.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, thinking. And then he opens up. “I feel like I’ve really been struggling here. I love drumming more than anything I’ve ever done, but my classes are so hard. This music theory shit makes me feel like an idiot.” Wooseok throws himself back into his chair, brow furrowed.

You hadn’t really expected this to turn into a therapy session, but you want to try to help him feel better if you can. “You don’t have to be amazing at theory to be a great musician. I’m sure there are a lot of people out there who can really easily understand theory, but will never understand how to put heart into their performance.”

“Well what about you? You’re good at, like, everything.”

“No, don’t do that. You can’t compare yourself to others. We’re all at different places, you know?”

“Weren’t you just comparing me against theory nerds?”

You take a deep breath. “I guess I did. But that’s not the point. My point is that you’re good at what you’re good at. Stressing about what other people are good at is a waste of time. That’s not going to make you any better at theory.

“Ultimately, the most important thing is that you’re doing what you love. I know you need to pass your classes to get your degree, but once you have that degree? The numbers and letters on your transcript are entirely arbitrary. So just be the best damn drummer you can be. Whatever you lack in ability to read chords and pitches, make up for with your intricate rhythms and flawless tempo.”

Wooseok nods, his gaze trained on the floor. And slowly, a smile forms on his lips. “I can do that.”

You nod, and you’re glad to see that something about him seems lighter now. Like you are really able to lift his spirits.

Wooseok really is something. He acts like such a light-hearted cool kid all the time, waving his drumsticks around and cracking wise-ass jokes. He’s always the one clowning around.

Now you see that there’s something a bit more intense underneath all of those layers of positivity. Sure, he can be serious sometimes, but this is something different. You can tell that there’s part of him that is deeply affected by all of this. He’s human, of course. He can’t be upbeat all the time. Getting to see him when he’s a little more vulnerable, a little more genuine… it really makes you feel like you’ve made a connection with him.

Maybe there is a friendship in store for you after all.

* * *

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to Ahjoomah’s Kitchen before.” Kino shakes his head at you as he flips the slices of meat laid out across the tabletop grill at the restaurant. “Trust me, once you get your first bite, you’re going to be disappointed that you’ve been missing out on the best Korean barbecue in the whole city.”

“I just didn’t know about it!” You chuckle defensively. “I don’t come down this way often.”

When Kino had invited you to hang out over the weekend, you hadn’t realized that he’d be dragging you all the way to Chinatown, nestled deeply in the city’s south side. But Kino’s from the south side, so he knows his way around. You trust his judgment - he won’t get you into any dangerous situations.

“Your loss,” he raises an eyebrow and reaches for the radish kimchi. “Be sure to get some of this before I eat all of it, by the way.”

“You can have it, be my guest. I’m strictly a cabbage kimchi kind of girl.”

His chopsticks pause mid-air as he looks up at you with fake disgust. “What kind of monster are you? Is that what they teach you on the farm?”

“I could say the same about you, you city-slicker.” You grab yourself some of the pickled seaweed and cabbage kimchi. “Will you eat  _any_  kind of kimchi?”

“Don’t start acting like I’m some kind of kimchi dumpster.” He tries to maintain a serious expression, but a laugh sneaks out. “I’ll make sure all of your meat gets burnt.”

You gasp dramatically. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, but I would.” Kino peeks down at the grilling meat, which is seconds away from being finished. “Yeah, I’d say it could use a few more minutes.”

“A few minutes? You’re going to burn this whole place down.” You grab the tongs to claim the perfectly cooked meat for yourself before Kino could ruin it.

The both of you laugh as you dish out the meat and get the next round onto the grill. And he’s right - the barbecue is absolutely delicious. Possibly the best you’ve had in a while.

As you eat, he tells you all about his family, and how he grew up the one son of many daughters - all younger than him. The youngest is a whopping twelve years younger than him - she just started first grade.

“That’s actually insane,” you comment, in awe over the sheer size of his family.

“My parents just don’t know when to quit.”

“My parents would be so jealous. They weren’t able to conceive again after me.”

“That’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It was kind of nice growing up just me and my brother. Our little family was perfect, actually, until my brother moved out.”

“What happened?”

“He graduated high school and then he disappeared.” You frown a little. You haven’t spoken with your brother in years, mainly because you don’t know how to contact him or find him. “He didn’t want to take over the farm, so he left. Didn’t tell any of us where he was going. I haven’t seen him since I was in middle school.”

“Were you close?”

You pick at the food sitting on your plate. “I thought we were.”

Kino places a freshly grilled piece of meat in front of you, encouraging you to eat. He’s watching you warmly, like you’re a sick puppy he wants to take care of. It’s sweet, but you don’t need his pity.

You roll your eyes and force a laugh. “It’s old news, anyway. Nearly ten years have passed and I’ve accepted the way things are now. But anyway, that’s why my parents want me to succeed so badly. I’m their only chance at a successful kid.”

“I can relate, as the only son.”

It feels so good to have someone here that can understand you so deeply in that regard, even if your family situations are different. Shinhye’s parents don’t put any kind of pressure on her about anything, and Nailah’s parents pretty much disowned her when she came out, which is it’s own brand of terrible. Both girls were super supportive of you and they always did their best to give you advice when you were struggling under the weight of your parents’ expectations. But they couldn’t quite understand you the way Kino could.

You smile, genuinely feeling placated. He’s just so peaceful to be around. As you stuff another strip of meat into your mouth, you groan, delighted. “You’re right, by the way. This place is the bomb.”

“Told you so.” His lips curl up into a smirk.

The mood stays light as you finish your meal, stuffing yourselves to the brim with the delicious meats and side dishes. Then when everything is paid for (Kino insists on taking care of the bill, much to your chagrin), you head off through Chinatown to your next destination - karaoke.

You had tried to warn him that you’re not much of a singer, but he said it doesn’t matter - half the fun of karaoke is just singing without any regard for how good you actually are.  _It’s therapeutic_ , he had said.

And so you find yourself holed up in a private room with Kino, who sings absolutely gorgeously all night, by the way. You feel like an idiot every time you take the microphone and warble a shitty rendition of Etta James or Ella Fitzgerald.

“Why do you keep picking such old songs?” Kino asks as you pass him the microphone, eyes already geared on the screen to choose his next solo.

“That’s what I like.”

“ _Lucky for you that’s what I like, that’s what I like_ …” Kino quietly sings a bit of Bruno in response as he scrolls through the song choices. “Oh, hey! We should do a duet! You know Elton John, right?”

You look up from your glass of water to see  _Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John_  highlighted on the TV screen. “You want me to actually sing with you and your angel voice? Nuh uh, I don’t think so.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.” He selects the song and picks up the second microphone, holding it out to you. “Please?”

The music intro starts up and you sigh dramatically. This is going to be a shitshow, but how could you say no when he’s looking at you with that little pout? “Fine. But can you tone down the professional singing a bit so I don’t feel so self-conscious?”

“Don’t feel self-conscious, you’re doing fine.” He smiles at you before lifting the microphone to his lips. “ _Don’t go breaking my heart_.”

Reluctantly, you do the same. “ _I couldn’t if I tried_.”

“ _Oh, honey, if I get restless_ …”

“ _Baby, you’re not that kind_.”

The lyrics bounce back and forth between the two of you, and he’s looking at you more than he’s looking at the screen, trying to make sure that you’re enjoying yourself. He overacts the whole time he’s singing, being intentionally goofy to get you to laugh. It works.

“Kino, I’m trying to sing. Stop distracting me.”

“_____, I’m trying to have fun. Stop being a fun sponge.” He jumps to stand behind you, grabbing your shoulder and popping out from behind you as he sings, “ _Ooo, ooo. Nobody knows it. When I was down_ …”

You strike a pose and look back at him, finally letting yourself join in on his antics. “ _I was your clown_.”

He dissolves into a fit of giggles and misses the next few lines. Damn, this boy is truly a ray of sunshine. You laugh along with him, and you both goof off for the rest of the song.

By the time you get to the outro (which takes up literally the last full minute of the song), he’s holding your hand and you’re both jumping around like a bunch of goons, completely out of breath and pretty much just squawking.

“ _Don’t go breaking my heart_ ,” he sings over and over.

“ _I won’t go breaking your heart,_ ” you continuously respond.

After Lord-knows how many repetitions of that, the song finally fades out to a close, and you both just stare at each other.

“Why the hell is that song so long?” You ask him, completely out of breath.

He cracks a huge smile, “Who the hell knows.”

And then he throws his arms around you, laughing brightly and pulling you into a tight hug. He’s warm and just a little sweaty, but honestly his shirt smells amazing and he’s so soft and every inch of you burns with the sweetest, most delicate flames. His laughter fills you, and you don’t have a single care in the world.

If only you could just stay that way forever.

* * *

Come Tuesday morning, you’re thrown headfirst back into reality, a frown laying heavy on your lips as you look down at your assignment. **  
**

“What’s that look for? You got an A.” Shinhye asked, confused at why you seem so clearly upset.

“My grade is wrong again,” you grumble. You could have convinced yourself that the first time was just an honest mistake, and not a secret ploy to get you into his office. But twice in a row? It’s no coincidence that Mr. Physics And Math Whiz can’t manage to do the simple math required to accurately add up your points.

This time, you have no choice. You really need to talk to him.

Class wraps up and he looks like he’s getting ready to bolt like he did last week. You spit out a quick  _wait outside_  for me at Shinhye before dashing to the front of the room in an attempt to grab his attention.

Professor Yang looks up as you approach, and his face remains neutral. “Yes?”

“Do you have a minute to talk about my grade? You made a mistake.” You look over your shoulder and watch as the last remaining students duck out the door, Shinhye included. You lower your voice a smidge to ensure no one overhears you. “Last week’s assignment was graded incorrectly, too.”

“I don’t have time to chat right now. I have an appointment with another student.”

For some reason, he doesn’t seem guarded as he speaks with you. There’s no edge to his voice. It catches you off guard - you hadn’t anticipated that there would ever come a time when he’d speak with you so casually.

He continues. “You can make an appointment with me later in the week if it’s an issue. Or you could just show up unannounced the way you do.”

Professor Yang looks up at you briefly, one eyebrow raised in a way that is both playful and accusatory. Is he actually teasing you? And willingly drawing attention to the time you caught him listening to your sex music? All of the blood that should be fueling your brain suddenly relocates to your cheeks and chest, making your skin warm and visibly flushed.

You’re right, then. He really is just trying to get you to visit him.

He stands with his bag in hand, ready to leave, but he pauses when he finally notices your flustered state. His playful expression dissipates as he observes you. You wish with everything in you that you could read his mind, that you could know what he’s thinking when he looks at you that way.

Then again, if there is any chance that he’s still as fatally attracted to you as you are to him, it’s probably best that you don’t know about it. It would be far too tempting to you, and you might actually convince yourself to act on your urges - your honor be damned.

Finally, he releases you from his gripping gaze and heads for the door. His voice floats over his shoulder, perfectly neutral as he makes a final suggestion. “Make an appointment.”

You chew your bottom lip as you watch him leave, disappointed in yourself for so easily turning into a helpless school girl. It’s absolutely unfair that he could have such an effect on you.

More than a little disgruntled, you meet Shinhye out in the hall and inform her that you’ll have to make an appointment with him later in the week.

“Busy guy, I guess. Midterms are approaching, after all.” Shinhye easily shrugs it off before changing the subject. “Ready to grab some lunch?”

You nod, thankful for a change of pace. “Yeah. Let’s get going.”

The two of you meet Nailah at the Indian restaurant down the street from your dorms, and you settle in for some of the best curry in town. You’ve eaten here multiple times with Shinhye, but it’s only recently that Nailah has started joining you. Ever since you brought them together for Nailah’s film project, the three of you have started spending more time together.

You dig into the naan, and peek over at Nailah, who’s sitting next to you. “How was your workout? You’re absolutely glowing,” you tease her, even though you recognize that she somehow manages to make a sweaty sheen look stunning.

“Sweetie, I’m well aware that this isn’t the look. I just stuck around too long and didn’t have time to shower before meeting you two.” She raises her eyebrows disapprovingly at your comment, but you know she’s smiling inside. “And it was great, thank you for asking.”

“No distraction this time?” Shinhye asks, stuffing naan into her mouth.

“Nope, he wasn’t around today.”

You don’t remember hearing anything about a distraction, and you wonder what’s up. “What are you talking about?”

“Hot guy.” Shinhye giggles.

Nailah cracks a smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I am still very much a lesbian. But trust me, I can appreciate a gorgeous looking man when I see one.”

Shinhye leans in. “Apparently everyone oggles him every time he’s there. Nailah included.”

“You would too, if you ever saw him!”

“And he might be a student here, because she’s seen him around campus a few times, too.” Shinhye continues to dish, and you get the impression that she’s been chatting with Nailah a lot more than you originally thought.

You laugh and say to Nailah, “Maybe you should get to know him. Set him up with Shinhye. She could probably use a little man love in her life, yeah?”

Shinhye’s mouth forms a line. “I don’t need a man, thank you.”

“What about you?” Nailah nudges you with her elbow. “You never talk about boys - or girls, whatever you’re into. Maybe you could use a little someone.”

Before you can defend yourself, Shinhye speaks up again. “If she’s going to get with anyone, it should be that tall guy from the party the other week. He’s super cute.”

You think back to the party and immediately remember hiding in a closet with Yuto. Some of your memories from that night had resurfaced, including your thoughts about how beautiful he may or may not be. The thing is, you still think he’s good-looking even without your booze goggles. “Yuto?”

Shinhye shrugs. “I don’t remember his name. I think you said he’s a drummer.”

“Oh, Wooseok!” That’s right - Shinhye and Nailah had taken off before you ran into Yuto, so they haven’t even met him. You shake your head. “No, we’re just friends. I think. I mean, I think that we’re friends, maybe. We may not actually be friends. I guess I don’t really know him all that well.”

Nailah chimes in. “Shinhye’s right, though, he was really cute. And he seemed like he could be into you. Remember how excited he was to see you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You brush off their comments, but you sense a few crumbs lingering in your thoughts. He is kind of attractive…

“And even if you’re not looking for anything serious right now, that doesn’t have to stop you from having fun, right?” Nailah waggles her eyebrows at you.

“Nailah, not everyone has loose morals like you.” Shinhye teases, which earns her a rueful look from Nailah.

“Okay, when did you two become such close friends?” You hate the bitter taste of the words in your mouth. Something about the way they interact seems strange to you. You just didn’t expect them to seem so close. Shinhye doesn’t easily get to the point where she’s playful and teasing around people, so Nailah must have grown on her pretty quickly.

“I’m pretty insistent on making talented people my friends. You have to hear the music she wrote for my project.”

“Nailah, it’s just a first draft. It’s not even that good.”

“No, it’s really good. And you need to give yourself credit.” The two of them share a meaningful look before Nailah continues. “Basically, she blew me away with her music and I decided that we need to be good friends so I can convince her to work on all of my stuff.”

“I didn’t really have much choice.” Shinhye laughs.

You’re glad to see that they’re getting along so well, even if it makes you feel just a touch uneasy. Maybe you’re just feeling jealous? Or excluded? Whatever it is, you’re being territorial and it’s dumb. So you push the feeling away. “I’m glad that you were able to work so well together.”

“Yeah, I really owe you!” Nailah responds. “I wouldn’t have gotten in touch with her if it hadn’t been for you.”

“What else am I good for?” You mutter rhetorically, hoping the sentiment didn’t come out as bitter as it felt.

Shinhye seems to notice your attitude, and she sucks air through her teeth. “Actually, we only invited you along to pay the bill…”

For only a second, you’re shocked - and then you realize she’s joking. “Oh my God, shut up, Shinhye.”

The three of you burst into laughter, and you think that maybe it won’t be such a bad thing for the three of you to hang out more.

* * *

You scurry up the stairs in the math and science building, borderline peeved that Professor Yang’s only available appointment time is right after your piano lesson (ten blocks away). He insisted he had no other time available this week. So here you are, huffing and puffing and probably a little sweaty, but still trying your best to look like you’re not huffing and puffing and probably a little sweaty. **  
**

Yes, you actually put thought into your outfit. Yes, you actually put on some makeup this morning. Yes, you actually made sure each hair on your head was laying perfectly.

And yes, you refuse to acknowledge that it’s all because you want him to think you’re cute.

You make your way down the hall, and his door comes into view. You wonder passively if you beat him to the office again, if you’ll have to wait for him.

As you get close, you hear a sound coming from the door. But this time it’s not music.

It’s laughter.

Distinctly female laughter.

And then the door opens, and little Miss Legs with her gorgeous, shiny hair struts out from his office. Professor Yang is close behind her, a wide smile on his face as he laughs at whatever just transpired between them.

Who the hell is she?

Your stomach twists into an impossibly complex knot as you watch Professor Yang watch Gorgeous Woman turn the corner.

Why is he looking at her like that?

And why do you care so much?

You don’t realize that you’ve completely frozen in place until he looks in your direction, his expression suddenly rearranging into something less pleasant, his smile completely fading into a flat line.

There isn’t a single coherent thought tearing through your mind besides run. Your fight or flight response kicks in even though there’s no real danger, and the shattering of your heart begs you to leave so you can try to stop imagining how that woman must have been flirting with him, and he must have been flirting back, and are they an item? Is he seeing someone?

_Why the hell does it matter?_

He finally puts two and two together, and realizes why you’re staring at him so dumbfounded. His eyes widen, his hand reaches out to you. “_____…”

It doesn’t matter how beautiful his voice sounds as it wraps around your name. He can’t stop you from darting to the stairs and bolting out of that goddamned building.

* * *

It shouldn’t be so much of a surprise. There’s nothing stopping him from seeing other people. You literally hooked up with him once, and that was  _months_  ago. That’s the extent of your relationship with him.

But when you think about him screwing that bubbly bitch the way he screwed you, you feel sick to your stomach.

And maybe there’s nothing between the two of them. You only saw a second of their interaction, and you have no idea who she is to him. But of course you can only assume the worst. They have to be fucking at the very least - they’re both God-tier gorgeous, they’re practically meant for each other.

A sharp pain works its way through your chest. She’s a thousand times prettier than you, no doubt about it. There’s no way he could ever be attracted to you when there’s someone like her in his life.

But he shouldn’t be attracted to you, and you shouldn’t be attracted to him!

You want to scream - you’re so torn between what you’re actually feeling and what you should be feeling, what you do want and what you should want.

You feel hurt, jealous, betrayed.

You  _should_  feel nothing at all.

You want him.

You  _should_  want nothing to do with him.

The bottom line is that you know you need to stop doing this to yourself. You need to stop whatever kind of feelings you have towards him so you can freaking move on with your life instead of constantly feeling so wrapped up in him. You could fawn over him forever, but the bottom line is  _you will never be with him again_.

You need to stop wishing that there might be a chance.

* * *

Kino surprises you Monday night by waiting for you outside of your dorm building before R&B Ensemble. He’s bundled up in his jacket, with a beanie on his head and a scarf around his neck. It’s October, so it’s definitely chilly outside, but he looks like he’s more than ready for winter. You hold back a laugh when you see him. **  
**

“Howdy, partner.” Kino greets you with a buttery southern twang. It’s not the first time he’s done this, and you roll your eyes at him.

“Quit it with the accent already!” You scold him playfully. “I grew up on a farm, not the deep south.”

He laughs as you start walking in the direction of the music building. “You are from south of here, though.”

“So are you, technically.”

“Hardly!”

You stop mid-step and turn around to face him, gesturing wildly to his person. “Okay but who’s acting more like a southerner here? Do you see what you’re wearing? It’s like you’ve never experienced the cold before.”

“Shut up,” he laughs, bumping into you as he passes by. “I’m keeping my throat warm for practice.”

“You’re such a dork.” You hurry to catch up to him.

You’ve really grown close to Kino quickly. You see him literally every day of the week because you’re in so many of the same classes together, and you frequently go out to grab snacks and coffee in between. (Well coffee for you, hot chocolate for Kino. He says coffee is too bitter.)

He teases you constantly, and you’re not afraid to give it right back to him. But he’s also become your study buddy, and he does a great job helping you with your aural skills assignments. The class requires you to be able to sing different variations of scales on-pitch, and you’re already not great with singing correct pitches to begin with. With his help, you’re getting more and more comfortable with it - even if you’re still kind of shitty.

“What are you up to this Saturday?” You ask. “I’m kind of in the mood for some more of that Korean barbecue. And I could be convinced to do some more karaoke.”

“Well obviously I’m going to be getting some Korean barbecue and doing some karaoke, then. Right?”

“I thought you might say that.”

Kino holds the door to the music building open, allowing you to pass through. “M’lady.”

“What a sweet, southern gentleman,” you drawl.

“The south side is not southern!”

“You started it! Don’t try to fight me about this.”

* * *

You’ve decided after all of the nonsense with Professor Yang, you don’t care enough about the couple of extra points. Obviously if he’s seeing someone else he’s not trying to win you over by boosting your grades. He’s just actually a fucking idiot who can’t count. **  
**

Midterms are coming up right around the corner, and that means it’s almost time for the workshop half of the semester to begin. As you’re all working on this week’s lab, Professor Yang calls each student to the front of the class individually to chat about what instrument they want to build.

Shinhye goes up before you - she wants to build a miniature marimba. You thought about doing the same, since it would be easy for you to play with your piano background, but you decided a little while ago that you’re interested in building a dulcimer. It could be a fun challenge for you.

Then it’s your turn. You don’t bother to put on a fake smile as you approach the front of the room, and he seems to be all business as well. You take a seat across from him.

“So.” He starts with a casual tone. “What are your thoughts for your final project?”

“Appalachian dulcimer,” you respond bluntly. He cocks his head, noticing your attitude.

“Alright.” He makes note of your choice on the pad of paper in front of him. “Have you looked into some different body shapes?”

“I want to do an hourglass shape.” You try not to stare him down. You don’t want to make a scene, no matter how bothered you feel. “With diamond shaped sound holes.”

He scribbles, eyes trained on the paper in front of him as he speaks. “We can definitely do the hourglass shape, although bending the wood is a little time consuming. Not impossible, though.”

“That’s fine.”

Setting his pen down, he finally looks up at you. You hold his gaze. His blank expression is impossible to read, and you try to keep yours as neutral as possible.

“Should we discuss your grade?”

“Nothing to discuss, really. Just make sure you count my points correctly next time.” You stand. “Is that all you needed?”

Professor Yang sits back, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Yes. Send up the next student, please.”

“My pleasure.”

As you clomp back to Shinhye, you fix a smile onto your face and let the kid next to you know that it’s his turn. You plop back into your seat, and focus one-thousand percent on finishing your lab so that you can keep your mind off of Professor Yang as long as possible.

* * *

You bury your hands deeply into your jacket pockets as you make your way up the stairs to the designated rehearsal room, feeling way too nervous for something that really isn’t even a big deal. **  
**

Changgu, the boy from the reception desk, had invited you to tonight’s Jazz Band rehearsal. When he mentioned it to you in person you thought it would be fun, but you didn’t actually expect to get an invitation. You figured he would probably forget, or if he tried he probably wouldn’t get permission. But then he called you, and now it’s really happening.

You open the door, hoping to all that is Holy that Changgu is already there so you don’t have to wait awkwardly - and thank the Lord, he’s sitting at the piano. He looks up as you enter and waves you over, a bright smile on his face.

“Hi, ____.” He greets you as you approach. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Thank you so much for inviting me!” You try not to gush, telling yourself that you have to stay cool. “I seriously appreciate it. I’m looking forward to watching and listening.”

“No problem.” He looks over toward the door again as the director makes his entrance, and Changgu stands. “Let me introduce you to Corbin, yeah?”

You nod and follow him towards the front of the room. Just _be cool_.

The director notices the two of you walking forward. “Is this our guest?” He asks, smiling broadly as he tugs off his jacket. **  
**

“Yes, this is _____. She’s the piano student I told you about.” Changgu introduces you warmly, and you don’t expect it. “She says she’s going to audition to be in Jazz Band next school year.”

“Going to be some awfully big shoes to fill once this guy graduates.” The director slaps Changgu on the back, laughing deeply. Then he extends his hand to you. “Call me Corbin.

“It’s nice to meet you, Corbin.” You shake his hand firmly. “And I look forward to auditioning.”

“I’ll be looking forward to hearing what you have to offer.”

You sit next to the piano for the duration of the practice, and it’s really an interesting experience to witness their rehearsal. Really, it’s run no differently from any other ensemble. The biggest difference is the sheer talent of the students involved. You’re sitting in a room with some of the best musicians in the school, and even though they’re all so good, they run into trouble spots in the music like anyone else would. It’s a really great reminder to you that no one is perfect.

It’s also really enlightening to you to see how Changgu navigates the music. He doesn’t have full sheet music in front of him - he’s working solely with lead sheets that only give him the chord progression and general rhythms. You’ve worked with lead sheets before and you understand how much room for interpretation they give. Changgu’s hands skillfully caress the keys, arpeggiating and clustering, making the music his own in a way you wouldn’t have considered. By the end of rehearsal, you have a whole new appreciation for Changgu’s craft and the amazing skill he possesses.

“I’m sure you already know this,” you stand next to the piano after rehearsal wraps up, “but you’re seriously an incredible pianist.”

“Thank you,” he laughs with a gentle smile. “What did you think of the rehearsal?”

“Eye-opening.” You nod succinctly.

Changgu snaps his binder shut. “You know, since we’re here, why don’t you play me something?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Come on.” He stands, patting the piano bench for you to sit. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

Shit. You aren’t exactly prepared, but what good pianist doesn’t have some music memorized for times like these?

Just a touch nervous - this is kind of a big deal, after all - you take your seat at the piano and start playing “Autumn Leaves” by Joseph Kosma. It’s one you’ve been playing for years and years, and it sits comfortably in your fingers.

As you play, you lose yourself to the song, and you don’t even notice the two boys approaching the piano. It isn’t until you wrap up and they start slowly clapping that you realize they’ve joined you. **  
**

“Who do we have here?” A tall, blonde boy smirks down at you.

“_____. She’s trying to take my seat next year.” Changgu introduces you.

“That’s me.” You look up at them both, and the broad-shouldered one speaks up.

“Too bad we won’t be around next year to play alongside you.”

“Seniors?” You inquire. Both Blondie and Shoulder Boy nod. “That’s too bad, then.”

Blondie smirks again before turning to Changgu. “You still in to go to the jazz club this weekend?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.” Changgu agrees.

Shoulder Boy looks over at you. “Do you want to come? We’re all going to perform at the open mic down at Andy’s Saturday night.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense. You should come.” Blondie leans on the piano, and he’s quite persuasive in the princely gaze he holds.

Changgu speaks up, too. “Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“Well then, you have to come. It’s twenty-one and up, of course. You’re old enough, right?”

You look between the three of them. When in the hell would you ever get the chance to go to a jazz club with three seniors? Besides… it could be a great opportunity to do something different and get yourself out of this stupid funk you’ve been in. Might help you get over all the nonsense with Professor Yang. So why not? “O-of course.”

“Great.” Blondie taps the piano with his knuckle. “I’m Yanan, by the way. This is Shinwon. We’ll see you Saturday.”

* * *

Honestly, you feel pretty guilty about canceling your plans with Kino. But this is a special opportunity, and you can get Korean barbecue with Kino anytime. This is your chance to mingle with the big kids of the department, and it’s not something you want to pass up. **  
**

You flash your ID to the bouncer - your fake ID, that is - and casually enter the jazz club. You do your best to look nonchalant about it, and the bouncer doesn’t even question the birthdate on your card.

The club is dimly lit, but there are soft yellow lamps around the bar and candles on the tables. The aura is immediately calming, yet alluring.

Yanan is the first of the trio that you see - he’s standing at the bar, ordering drinks. You walk up to him and he notices you immediately.

“What are you drinking tonight?” He smiles lazily at you. It’s charming on him.

You raise an eyebrow. “Perhaps an Old Fashioned.”

“How classy.”

“We  _are_  in a jazz club. Seems fitting, don’t you think?”

Yanan adds your order to his list, and turns back to you as the bartender gets your drinks together. “Has Changgu talked you into performing tonight?”

“Me? No, he hasn’t.” You chuckle. “Should I?” **  
**

He shrugs minutely. “I don’t know if I’d go on stage in that dress…”

Your jaw drops at the unexpected comment. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. Trust me.” Yanan looks you up and down. “Just be prepared for some staring.”

The dress in question is undoubtedly one of your favorites, which is why you put it on for tonight. The neckline dips low between your breasts and the skirt hugs your hips comfortably. It shows off your shape, to say the least. You feel gorgeous and mature when you wear it, and it just feels like the right choice for this type of event.

Yanan’s flirty undertone stirs up a sweet warmth in your belly and somehow makes you feel more confident under his gaze. You turn towards the bar, subtly arching your back to give him a view or your rear end. “Stare all you want,  _sweetheart_.”

You barely catch Yanan’s smirk before you realize the bartender is handing over your drinks. You each take two glasses and he leads you towards the front of the club, near the stage. The whole walk over is spent questioning how the hell you had the nerve to actually flirt back, but hey. ‘New school year, new you’ and all that. Maybe this is you finally stepping into your womanhood. **  
**

Changgu and Shinwon are seated on bar stools around a tall, circular table. A single tea candle flickers at the center of the table, throwing bits of light on the boys’ faces. Yanan claims the seat next to Shinwon and pulls the empty seat ever so slightly closer before you can sit down.

So this is how tonight’s going to go.

You have a lot of fun at the club, sipping your Old Fashioned, chatting with the boys, and listening to some seriously incredible music. Honestly, you’d take another night like this over a night at a regular club any day. This is laid-back, classy, sensual. Just your style.

When the guys get up to perform, you don’t even mind sitting by yourself. You feel so relaxed. Maybe it’s because you’re on your third Old Fashioned. (Yes, it’s going to be an expensive night. No, you don’t care.)

A girl joins the three of them on stage to play drums, and you think you might recognize her from the music department. She has a cute, round face and big eyes, like a doll. And it’s probably a good thing she’s there, too - her soft brushes set the perfect tone for the trio’s music.

Changgu tears it up on piano, of course, but in the sweetest, most melodic way. It’s a really easy, smooth sound. Shinwon plucks away at the upright bass, and Yanan contributes soulful bits of saxophone melodies. You want to just close your eyes and live in the music.

Their short set is over far too soon, but it’s only fair; they get two songs, just like everybody else. When they rejoin you at the table, the girl drummer comes with, tucked under Shinwon’s arm.

“Well done, well done,” you snap your fingers, truly taking on the jazz club persona.

“Thank you,” Changgu bows his head, a sweet grin on his lips. And then he throws you for a loop. “Get ready, you’re probably next.”

“What?”

Your ears perk up as the emcee on stage calls your name.

“I’m sorry,  _what_?”

“I signed you up.” Changgu explained, grin turning mischievous. “Go play that tune you played for us the other day.” **  
**

“Changgu!” You’re barely even able to protest as he nudges you toward the stage. “Not fair!”

“Just do it,” he encourages, giving you one last little shove.

Suddenly you are very nervous, and you wonder if you’re even sober enough to play well. You’re not drunk yet, but definitely tipsy enough that you’ve started to feel lightheaded.

Jeez. This is completely unfair.

Sitting down at the piano, you pull the microphone over to your mouth. “Hey, everyone. Um, I’m _____, and I was brought up here entirely against my will. Thanks for that.” You gesture towards the boys’ table and laugh, and the audience chuckles with you. “I’m going to play you all a little song called ‘Autumn Leaves’.”

Pushing the microphone away, you settle your fingers onto the keys and let the music take you away. Even in your slightly intoxicated state, the notes come to you easily. You feel yourself swaying as you play, but not in a drunken way - just in the way that pianists do.

You follow the melody, giving yourself the artistic freedom to change things up as you please, and by the end you genuinely feel good about the performance. The crowd applauds as you take a bow and usher yourself off stage, only willing to use up one of your two allotted songs.

As you head back towards the table, all you can think about is how you’re going to get Changgu back for that stunt. At the very least, he could have stopped you from ordering another drink if he knew you were going to be performing. But to let you get tipsy and then toss you up on stage, completely unprepared? You shake your head, chuckling. So not cool.

A hand grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You’re alarmed for only a moment before you turn around - and you’re filled with dread.

Professor Yang.

Why is he here? Why did he have to show up tonight? **  
**

Why does it feel like you just can’t get away from him?

“What do you-”

“You have no right to be here.” He cuts you off sternly. “You’re underage.”

Frowning, you shake out of his grip. “I’m aware.”

“You need to go home. Now.”

“Oh my God, seriously? Who do you think you are? I know you’re older than me, but you’re not my father. Back off.” The alcohol is catching up with you, but you don’t care what you say to him.

“You’re being irresponsible-”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I do, right?” Your brow knits together and you’re so full of rage. “I fucking slept with you, after all, so maybe that’s just what you should expect from me. I’m just some irresponsible child, right?”

“Don’t talk like that.” Professor Yang glances around to make sure no one is paying attention to your conversation. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Why do you care? You don’t care about me. Just leave me alone.” You turn and head towards your table again, wanting to just be done with him. You can’t even have a nice night without him somehow coming along to ruin it.

You make it to the table, and the guys start to congratulate you before they recognize the man that’s been following you.

“Oh hey, Hongseok.” Yanan gets up from his seat, places his hands on your shoulders, and turns you around to face the bane of your existence. “What did you think of our little _____, here?”

“I’m not your friend. At least call me Mr. Yang if you can’t manage the title Professor.” His eyes drop to you for only a moment, stopping to notice Yanan’s fingers on your bare shoulders. His voice is surprisingly cool as he speaks. “She came here with you?”

“She did,  _Mr. Yang_.”

“She needs to go home now. She’s underage and shouldn’t be here.” **  
**

“Underage?” Changgu speaks up.

With a roll of your eyes you confess, “I’m nineteen.”

“Yes. So someone please take her back to her home.” Professor Yang looks at the boys, stopping on Yanan. “Not you. Changgu, please escort her.”

“Not me?” Yanan protests behind you.

“I don’t trust you. Bringing a sophomore here and getting her drunk.” He scoffs.

“She’s an adult. She can do what she wants.” Yanan defends you. “It’s just a little alcohol. She’s fine.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You agree, frowning at Professor Yang. “I’m not drunk.”

Changgu jumps in. “No, Professor Yang is right. She shouldn’t be here if she’s underage. I’ll take her home.”

“I’ll take myself home. I feel fine.” Brushing off Yanan’s hands, you head for the door. You just want to get the hell out of there and away from  _him_.

You’ve barely stepped outside when you feel his presence - he followed you out. Professor Yang steps up right next to you, grabbing hold of your arm again. “Stay put. I’ll get you a cab.” **  
**

“I can take the train.”

“Not by yourself, dressed like that.” He stands at the curb to hail the taxi.

“I can wear whatever I want,” you pout.

“I know that. But you’re also smart enough to know there are a lot of people out there who won’t respect your autonomy.” He spares a glance back at you, and you notice the concern on his face. “Just let me get you in a cab so I know you’ll be safe.”

You scoff. “Like you care.”

“Would you stop saying that?” His suddenly loud voice startles you as he abandons his cab-hailing mission. “This is exactly the kind of shit I wanted to avoid with you. You should have dropped the class when you had the chance.”

You stare him down. “Like I said: I’m just full of irresponsible decisions, aren’t I?”

And then the most dangerous thing in the world happens.

His gaze falls to your lips.

It only takes up a moment, but his eyes linger just long enough that you know it can’t have been by chance.

Your voice is infinitesimally small as you murmur, “What was that?”

Professor Yang searches your face, a sort of melancholy in his eyes. “Don’t make me answer that question.”

Every ounce of blood in your veins boils over, making your face hot. You’re speechless. Completely, utterly speechless. You honestly, genuinely, cannot think of anything to say.

And neither can he.

So you both stew in the thickening air, the space between you filled to the brim with the weight of his unspoken confession. It’s suffocating.

This is precisely the type of moment that is bound to screw you over eventually. Not even a deep breath can calm you - your lungs are full of his cologne, and you want nothing more than to bury your nose in his chest.

It would be so easy to grab him by the collar and pull him into your arms, claim his lips with your own and remind him how good it feels to be with you.

Show him that he still prefers you over that other woman.

Professor Yang finally steps back, breaking the spell and returning to the curb. He calls over a taxi and pulls open the back door for you. “Where are you headed?” he asks you.

“Corner of 15th and State.” You near the cab as he pulls out his wallet, grabbing a few bills and handing them to the driver through the window.

“Take her to 15th and State, please. No other stops.”

“Yessir.”

Standing behind the door, you feel hesitant to take a seat.

_Come with me_ , you want to ask of him.  _Come sit with me and look at me like I’m something special. Pretend that we might be in love, like we did that night._

All you want is another moment with him, but it won’t happen. You won’t let yourself speak those words. **  
**

The ringing of a cell phone catches your attention and he pulls his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID and deciding that he needs to answer. To you, he says, “Get home safe, alright?”

Could that be his girlfriend calling? You’re hit with a wave of jealousy, and you call after him as he walks off. “Say hi to your girlfriend for me!”

Before he can even turn around, you drop into the car and slam the door shut, pouting in the back seat as the driver pulls away from the curb.

Yeah, that was a pretty childish thing for you to do. But you’re almost drunk and you don’t give a shit.

You get out your own phone. Not even 11PM and you’re already being sent home. This is ridiculous.

Just as you’re writing out an apology text to Changgu (to apologize for your lie and also the miserable turn of events this evening), your phone rings.

Why is Wooseok calling?

You answer, curious. “Hey.”

“_____…” He drawls your name.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Just drunk.”

“Not hosting another party, I hope.” You look out the window as you stop at yet another red light. “Haven’t you learned anything?”

“No party this time. It’s just me, by myself. Which is pretty lame…”

Ah. You think you know where this is going. “Why did you call me, Wooseok?”

“Come over and drink with me. It’ll make me feel better. Pleaseee?”

You’re quiet for a second as you consider. You think about everything Professor Yang said to you tonight, how he called you irresponsible.

Irresponsible does seem to be your middle name these days.

“Alright, I’ll be there in ten.”

* * *

Wooseok is properly drunk by the time you arrive, but he’s not messy. He’s actually very easy to be around - or maybe you just feel that way because you’re a bit drunk yourself. He supplies you with a few shots of tequila, and you’re certainly well on your way. **  
**

You’ve still got enough sense to know that the two of you should have at least some water tonight to avoid a hangover headache in the morning, so you get up from the couch to grab each of you a glass. Wooseok follows you, and he leans against the wall as you get the water.

“I got a pretty good grade on my theory test this week. All thanks to you.”

“That’s awesome! I knew you could do it.” You pour water from the filtered pitcher into each glass and hand him one. “Drink that.”

“You know what? You’re a great teacher.” He obediently takes a sip. “And I thought about what you said. You’re right, I’m a badass drummer and that’s… that’s the coolest thing.”

“Cheers to that!” You clink your water glass against his and gulp some of it down.

“But the coolest thing about you is how you just make everything seem so easy. You’re so smart. And hot. S’not fair.”

“I’m hot?” You ask. The warmth of the liquor in your veins makes you feel soft and fuzzy, and grin up at him lazily. Has he always been this attractive? You’ve seen him in that jean jacket plenty of times, but for some reason it just looks especially good on him right now.

“Hell yeah, you’re, like, way hot.” He rubs his eyes. “Hey, I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“Do you like Yuto?”

“Yuto?” That’s probably the last question you could have expected him to ask.

“Yeah. It’s just, I saw you go in the closet with him at the party and I was just wondering what happened.”

“Oh. Nothing happened, actually.” You shake your head, giggling at the way the motion makes you feel dizzy. “He just saw the RA show up and he pulled me aside so that we wouldn’t get in trouble. We just stood there until the coast was clear, and then we left.”

“Do you like him, though?”

“I don’t know, I hardly know him. I don’t have any feelings for him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Wooseok leans toward you, a solemn expression on his face. “He’s my friend, you know. So if anything’s going on between you two, I should know about it.”

Why does it suddenly feel like you’re in trouble? He’s actually pretty intimidating. Maybe it’s just his size. “Would it be a problem if something happened between me and Yuto?”

He takes a step toward you, forcing you to back up into the kitchen counter bar. His hands rest on the counter on either side of you, locking you in place. “If something happened between you and Yuto, I’d probably have to try to convince myself that I shouldn’t make out with you right now.”

So that’s what he wants. His confession spreads through you like wildfire, and you feel blissfully awake and alive. With all of the bullshit you’ve been dealing with, you’re more than ready to get lost in something - or someone - else.

“Lucky for you…” You grab a fistful of his shirt, slowly pulling him closer. His gaze flutters briefly to your chest, your lips, your eyes. “You can do whatever you want.”

Wooseok takes the glass from your hands and places it on the counter with his glass. His palm comes to rest on your jaw, tilting your face upward as he leans in.

Either you’re drunk or you’re actually incredibly attracted to Wooseok - regardless, you’re shocked head to toe by the sheer intensity of his kiss. He radiates delicious aggression as his hand laces through your hair, his tongue tracing your lower lip. Your hands make their way behind his neck, and he is way too tall (but that’s actually pretty hot).

Next thing you know, his hands are on your waist and he’s lifting you up onto the kitchen bar. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in as close to you as possible, completely ignoring the way your dress slides up your thighs, exposing your legs to his wandering hand. With one of his hands still in your hair and the other gripping your thigh, you melt under his touch.

Wooseok is pure dominance, and he kisses you like it’s his last chance. Each press of his lips makes you hungry for more. Maybe you’re just deprived, but you seriously cannot get enough of him.

In the back of your drunken mind, you’re desperate to feel hands on your body. You want him to touch you and show you what those long fingers of his can do. You want him to tug your hair and bite your skin and  _God the way he’s breathing so heavily is so hot._

You pry his hand from your leg and bring it behind your back, silently begging him to rip your zipper and get you naked. He understands, immediately pulling the back of your dress open and fiddling with the hooks of your strapless bra. He makes quick work of it, and finally your chest is exposed. **  
**

Wooseok’s large hand cups your breast, his thumb rolling your nipple as his tongue dives between your lips. He tastes of alcohol and it’s the sweetest flavor as he decimates you. You let yourself moan unabashedly to encourage him - everything he does is exactly perfect and you want him to know that he should never, ever stop.

You lean back as his mouth starts to trail down your throat, giving him better access to your chest until you’re lying down across the bar. Wooseok’s hand travels up your torso from belly button to collar bone until his hand wraps around your throat, his mouth suckling your nipple.Tossing your head back, you moan so, so sweetly for him - your head hangs off the edge of the bar, and you get the most delicious headrush.

You’re completely caught up in the moment, and you need more. He has to give you more.

“Wooseok,” you murmur his name, head still hanging. “Let me feel your fingers. Jesus Christ. I want you to touch me.  _Please_.”

With absolutely no hesitation his hand slides up your skirt, and he presses his palm against your clothed clit. “Ask me again, baby.” **  
**

Baby? Oh dear Lord you completely lose control of your senses when you hear that pet name. Breathily, you beg, “Wooseok, please touch me. Finger me. I want to feel your hands.”

“Good girl.” He presses a line of kisses across your chest, and he tugs your underwear off, dropping the soaked fabric onto the floor. Christ, you’re so wet for him.

The tips of his fingers sweep across your folds, targeting your clit and winding small circles around it. It’s a sharp and quick motion, and it makes you gasp, your back arching at the sudden onslaught of intense pleasure.

“Is that what you want, baby?”

There it is again -  _baby_. Why does it sound so natural coming from his lips? “Yes, Wooseok! Oh my God… More, please, more…”

As you wish, Wooseok brought two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his saliva before letting them slip past your folds, diving deep into your warmth. It’s exactly what you wanted, and the combination of his circling and pumping drives you absolutely wild. **  
**

“Tell me what you like,” he murmurs, and you let your fingers card through his soft hair.

You’re breathless, but you manage to find words. “I like… everything you’re doing. Oh God, I like how…  _rough_  you are… I want-  _ohh_!”

The coil in your belly tightens, and you tug hard on Wooseok’s hair. He groans lowly, and your walls clench wildly around his fingers. **  
**

“What do you want?” His voice is breathy as he asks, and his teeth gently bite down on your nipple, tugging.

“I want to come, please, just keep going, let me come!”

“Go ahead, baby.”

He doesn’t do a single thing different - he just keeps his exact pace, that fucking spectacular tempo he’s got, letting you work yourself up until you finally hit your breaking point.

You arch your back as stars explode behind your eyelids, shooting you into another galaxy of pleasure and ecstasy. Your whole body feels electric and tingly, and your walls pulse joyfully around his fingers as you release every ounce of tension you’ve held.

What fucking fantastic fingers he has.

Before you can fully come down, though, you hear the apartment door open.

Panicked, you sit straight up, forcefully bumping heads with Wooseok. You both simultaneously clutch your foreheads, groaning from the pain. And in your hurry to sit up, you accidentally knock over one of the glasses sitting next to you on the counter, spilling water everywhere.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you apologize as you attempt to cover yourself with the dress that’s gathered around your waist.

Just then, Wooseok’s roommate, Minho, comes strolling in. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the two of you were just doing, and he frowns. “Seriously, Wooseok? The kitchen counter? You couldn’t fucking make it to the bedroom, or even give me a heads-up?”

“Whatever, dude.” Wooseok steps between you and Minho to help hide your disheveled state. “Can we have a minute?”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Just don’t fuck up the couch too much.”

“We’re not-” Wooseok’s voice gets cut off as Minho yanks the bedroom door shut. He turns back to you, still rubbing his head. “Are you okay?”

You nod and let your dress fall down again so you can return your bra to its rightful place on your chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You’ve got some great tits, by the way.” He admires your chest as you hook your bra.

With a short chuckle you respond, “Thanks.”

“You know… We  _could_  fuck up the couch a little, if you want…” Wooseok suggests mischievously, despite the conversation he just had with his roommate.

“I think I should probably go, actually.” You feel more than a little awkward about his roommate showing up, and you’re positive that you must be fifty shades of red right about now. You jump down from the counter and head for the door, zipping up your dress along the way. **  
**

What should you say? Thanks? Sorry? See you again soon? You’re not prepared for this kind of situation. All you know is that you just want to get home.

So you do what anyone else would do and you just don’t say a damn thing as you bolt out the door.

Your mind is still too fuzzy from the alcohol and the orgasm to even process what just happened between the two of you, and all you can think about is how the whole skirt of your dress is wet from those glasses being knocked over and you probably look like a hot mess right now.

Normally you’d take the stairs out, but you feel too dizzy to make it down stairs without falling - so you wait for the elevator instead. And as if you haven’t already had enough of a weird night, the elevator doors open to a familiar concerned face.

“_____?” Kino stares at you from inside the elevator, taking in your messy hair, rumpled dress, dripping skirt.

You’re simultaneously relieved to see him and consumed with guilt - you had canceled your plans with him, and now look how the night has turned out. “Kino…”

It’s obvious by the look in his eye that he can tell something is wrong. You don’t even have to voice what’s happening inside of your head. He just knows. “Do you want to come over?”

Nodding, you feel the familiar burn of tears in the corner of your eyes.

What a hell of a night.

**Author's Note:**

> All Rights Reserved © gwentory. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr @gwentory (now @gwentoryfics)


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